An ordinary fork in the road.

It wasn’t the first day. It wasn’t during any of the monumental milestones. It wasn’t even during the difficult middle-of-the-night calls for help. It was an ordinary moment. A moment that has since become second nature and routine; one I am sure I’ll repeat a thousand more times. At least.

One evening as I was drawing Camille a bath and I realized, I can get away without giving her one. I’m tired. She is well fed. She took a bath that morning. She is sleepy. More importantly her mom isn’t home to push me to do it. Why don’t I just put her pajamas on and off to sleep she will go. Both of us will be happy to expedite the entire process.

That’s when the feeling hit me. Right there, in the middle of the corridor between the bathroom and her bedroom, I knew. To grab for a word that has slightly lost its punch, I had an epiphany. The feeling that this little soul mattered more than I can describe. I undeniably knew that I’d become annoyed, frustrated, exhausted and angry with this little one over the course of her life, but that these feelings would always be put into their proper perspective because she’s my little girl. Mine.

This week she turns two. Friday can take its time getting here.

Prologue or interlude?

Transitions. I’ve been told there are several in life. My gut tells me there are only a few that matter. In spite of our self-conscious decision that we will always remain the same… cool, collected, 'du jour' …we change. No matter our resolve.

Interests. Perspectives. Attitudes. They shift.

Funny thing is that the transition begins as an unconscious effort, but midway through it, it dawns on you. More than likely when you find yourself enjoying something that you previously detested. “Wait, didn’t I hate cutting mushrooms? Hmmm this wine has a pungent smell.” Next thing you know you’re going through cookbooks and using words such as complexity, character and finishing to describe your beverages.

What does this mean? Age is obvious. But there has to be more to that. I’m not sure exactly what, but one thing I do know is that while others can warn you about ‘crossing overs’, they cannot tell you what it means...or feels like. To each his own as the saying goes. A critical person, a cynic perhaps, will immediately tell you its part of a cycle that will ultimately lead to crisis...and while trials will come, our paths are decided by us. God wouldn’t have it any other way.

So here I am. Doing the unthinkable only months ago. Using the written word to help me understand my transition(s) and the newfound joys, successes and failures that stem from them. And probably more importantly what these experiences mean.