Friday, November 6, 2015

sap.

I'm a sap.  That's all there is to it.

Yesterday, while driving down the highway, my daughter in the backseat jibber-jabbering about God knows what, occasionally cracking herself up, a song comes on my computer-aided faux radio station.  I believe the station was "Jason Isbell" or "Chris Stapleton"--some good, genuine, honest country music that doesn't have glossed-up, shiny-faced douche bags singing it.  It was a slow song--couldn't even tell you who did it or what it was called.  But the combination of this particular melody along with the one thing in the world that I love more than anything, made me tear up.

A sap!

Let's back up.  "The one thing in the world that I love more than anything".  That's a bold statement.  A true statement.  Kind of.

When I was a kid, it was my family--parents and sister.  That's who I loved.  Of course, I still love them.  But when I met my wife, they obtained a different slot--a different category.  I still loved them, but not like I love my wife.  She's the love of my life.  She's number one.  Then along came my daughter.  Shit, man.  I didn't think I'd have to re-categorize my wife, but I do.  So, although I still love my immediate family, it's a different category than that of my wife...and even different-er now with my daughter.  And her category is now the prominent one.  Kind of.

Three categories of love.  Sounds like a Whitesnake song.

I realize I'm probably preaching to the choir here.  I'm a late bloomer of parenthood, so these feelings are brand new.  I've heard it all before.  Loving your child...whole new feeling...incredible journey...enjoy the moments...blah blah blah.  But until you experience it, it's all crap.  But when you do finally experience it, it's freaking unbelievable.

Ruby's laugh.  Ruby's smerk.  Ruby's strong will.  Ruby's disgusting eating habits.  Ruby's voice.  Ruby's hug.  It truly leaves me speechless.  All I can do is grin.  And tear up, apparently.

I don't know what the hell the three categories are called.  I just know that different people get dropped into different slots.  That's how it works in my brain.  It's fairly unexplainable, so I'll just be quiet now.

In summary:  My daughter's presence, plus a slow country song, make me a complete mess.  But that's okay.  It's called appreciation, gratefulness, and love.  And I'm okay with that.  I can't let her see me tear up, though.  She'll make fun of me.  She's got a lot of her mom in her, ya know.

ps.  this took me 7 minutes to write.  that's how obvious it is to me.

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