'Tis Herself

Reilly has a onesie that she has since grown out of, it is white with green lettering that states: “Tis Herself.” I believe her grandmother gave it to her.

Lately, when I watch Reilly I am envious of how much she is herself. She has the same personality she was born with—is so happy and full of life, so spirited. Her personality is the closest now to its original starting point than it will ever be, I guess. As she moves on through school and life, she will assimilate the personality traits of the people around her, become more like the crowd around us all.

Shawn and I try to cultivate her personality, try not to press too much of ourselves onto her, though a certain amount is inevitable. We are her closest models, and to that point, we try to be the best role models that we can. I sometimes find this to be a burden, to always be mindful of how I am presenting myself. Another problem is that this self-awareness can sometimes turn into self-criticism. I constantly have to remind myself that I am a good dad, and that I am doing a good job, but it is easy to feel otherwise.

In college I had the opportunity to reinvent myself, or rather, to be more like who I was under all those layers of high school. In New York I lost myself in many small ways, and now it seems I’m reinventing myself again, or, I’m just realizing that I’ve been reinventing myself all along, into a father, a person more responsible out of necessity. I think I like this self the best.

Yesterday when Shawn dropped Reilly off at school, the kids were already out on the playground. Shawn sent her off and closed the gate, and when she turned back, saw that Reilly was just standing there. When Reilly saw that Shawn was leaving, she sat down next to the chain link fence, stuck her little hands through the links and waved solemnly goodbye. It was heartbreaking to Shawn, and when Shawn related the story to me, it was heartbreaking for both of us.

That image was burned in my mind all day yesterday, and remains there today. The self I am now, a father—a working father—might be my favorite self, but is also the most emotionally taxing, and the guilt that comes from being this self is the worst guilt of all.