Arrivals

A few weeks ago a boy, a perfect boy, washed up on our shore. A gift from the deep, fathomless sea of Life itself.

I am now a father. And although it was never certain to happen and has been long awaited, I always felt it was written in the sands. 

I have participated in the creation of life, and yet I am none the wiser of its mechanics, nor its mystery. And although my hands can reach out and hold this flesh and blood miracle, my mind cannot grasp any of it.

I find myself leaving the room and momentarily forgetting he exists. Then I return, and in swells of love and astonishment, I remember. He is here. He is here.

It is ever more clear to me that the most beautiful paths are the ones that cannot be grasped, only received and lived. That the most valuable gifts are the ones that come through us, not from us.

With serenity spread across his tiny face, and an occasional furrowed brow, some part of me knows that he has already travelled a great distance to be here.

I hope one day he can see himself as I see him now - a gift, pure and perfectly formed. 

And if I can guide him at all, it would be towards that: to live from his soul and from his heart, to trust what was already in him before the world got its hands on him.