So, you. My child.
It's a bit weird, that. I mean there's "my" which is ownership and "child" which if all goes to plan, you are not by the time you're reading this. My child. I think, now, I can deal with that.
When your father was 28, way back in 2015, he... actually, no third person stuff. I'll try again.
In 2015 I decided to start writing a diary of your life. I've found that life is so full of things that old memories get pushed out by new ones, which means there are people and places that I don't get to remember anymore. So I thought it would be a better idea to start writing things down, in case you have questions about your life that I don't remember. Or, that you don't know to ask. I'm not planning on editing this at all, and I think that's important. It's also difficult, because, my child, if you start writing, one day you'll find something that you wrote five years ago and become incredibly embarrassed. Hopefully you'll see how much you've improved, but it still hurts to read.
Why?
Well, you see the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors that have been on self-published display for five years, and you never picked them up. You see that... well... you *like* used to do stupid things in your writing and now that seems immature. But mostly, when you look back and read your old work you become alarmed about how much of a self indulgent wanker you were. I am likely to look back on this, which will be the opening page, and wonder why I wasted my first page talking about editing. But right now, I think that's important, so I'm running with it.
I have a reason for thinking this, and it's ridiculous, but here it is:
You are going to change my life. I want you to read this and understand not just how much I love you, or how proud I am of you, but how much you changed my life. You might one day realise, as I have, that I as your father played a role in shaping how you see the world, and who you are today.
I want you to understand that you have shaped my life as well. You are a part of who I am.
Right. That's page one. I'm going to talk a bit about the last six months.
Mum and I had been living and working in Malaysia for two and a half years, and we reached the time where we had to decide between extending the contract another two years or coming back to Geelong, of which I really hope you have travelled extensively beyond by now, and I'm sure is exactly the same as when we left it four years ago(2011).
We didn't hate it in KL, the lifestyle was good. But three years was a long time to be away from all your cousins, so we decided to come home. And then - and I don't want to elaborate on this - your mother got pregnant.
And I crapped myself.
I didn't know how to deal with this new information. Fortunately, it was late in the year, and everyone was having christmas parties so I just got drunk, which didn't help me at all. People would ask me if I was excited and I honestly didn't know. I mean, everything in my life was going to change irreversibly from that point on, and I couldn't imagine what that would be like. It's like me asking you what it's like to be 80, and living as a horse on occupied Mars. Just a bit conceptual. So I freaked out, and when people would say THAT'S AWESOME I'd say... is it? And then they'd awkwardly go back to talking to Jem.
But it's changed, now. I don't know why, either. When I saw you on the ultrasound it changed, but it just made me worse. Mum and I had to go outside and sit down. It was 9:30AM and we were exhausted. But now, I sit in a tiny unit out the back of... grand-guy Alan's house, without an income, without a useful qualification, without direction, and if you're a boy, without any agreed name, and I am excited.
It's really cool. I keep thinking about you, and how I really, really want to meet you. I wonder who you'll be, how you'll think, and what you'll like... It's really exciting now. I want to meet you.
So that will be all, for now. I have an exam tomorrow, and I'm fairly confident about it by it's midnight and I need some sleep. I'm going to write in this at the minimum once a year. But I'm sure I'll write more often than that.
I need to sign off, but I'm not sure how. It's a first attempt though, so I guess you'll have to forgive me for stuffing it up.
I don't know who you are, but I know that you're mine. I know I love you very much, which is obviously crazy, and somehow feels completely natural at the same time. I can't wait to meet you, to see you grow up, and to be proud of you as you grow and understand the world.
Love Dad.
Monday 9th June 2015
