Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on morning.
Most mornings, dad is in charge.
It is dad that gets you ready for the day.
It is dad that settles arguments on what to wear.
It is dad that brushes teeth, hair, wipes faces.
It is dad that gets breakfast ready and gives you that final kiss as he too runs out the door.
In the morning, I start work before you are even thinking about getting up, before the sun gets up.
Even on the days that I work from home, it is dad that is in charge, I am an observer from the other room.
And soon after my revelation of how I needed to change my parenting,
soon after I realized how much more damage we were creating and how we all needed to be softer,
well, mornings now have a wonderful dance, with a quiet song.
There is less yelling, because I cannot have you getting on a bus with that on your heart.
There is less pressure, because who needs more pressure first thing?
There is less rushing, because if we miss the bus, there are other options.
There is more time, because we focus on what is actually important,
and quiet reading time
we start the day with laughter.
Because this is what sets the remainder of my day.
You, you always get over situations much more quickly, much more healthy, much more ready to move on.
But pain, yelling, a harsh morning, I carry that with me all day long.
I carry the look on your face, all day long.
I carry the impact of another painful morning, all day long.
And so now, our mornings are full of gentle kindness,
most of the time,
because we are not perfect.
But we are trying,
we are for you
and for us.
Because I do see every morning as another chance
a chance to start with love
to be soft
to be your beginning.