Browsed by
Author: s

I am a young man bearing witness to the lives of my wife and son through writing them letters.
Witness to Your Love

Witness to Your Love

Dear Z, Before our son had taken his first deep breath, the doctor returned to the end of your bed and began stitching you back together. Before the nurse handed him to me for the first time, you carried him for nine months, had your skin pierced with countless needles, burst your body open for his entrance into the world. And there I was by your side, body fully intact, meeting my child for the first time, and already miles…

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Summer Come Early

Summer Come Early

Dear J, You are a marvel to us. Your body is a marvel to us. You are a five month old in nine month old’s clothing, growing so quickly that it’s early March and most of your clothes are tiny t-shirts and shorts, covered in anchors and sailboats. Summer has arrived early in our household. And I have never seen such constant movement. Out of empathetic curiosity, we sometimes lie down beside you on our stomachs, kicking our legs in…

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End of the Rope

End of the Rope

Dear Z, Around 3pm today, you sent me a text: “I’m pretty near the end of my rope.” A few hours later I arrived at home to find our living room rearranged – furniture pushed to the edges of our area rug – and you and J in the middle of it holding onto one another like shipwreck survivors in the middle of the sea. Our dog was acting in some ways like a shark, in some ways not. She…

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Meeting J

Meeting J

Dear J, Until the moment I met you, I could not conceive of you existing, of occupying space separate from us. And the moment you arrived, when your head suddenly burst into the room, your face scrunched and ruddy, I lost my grasp for words. I tried calling your grandparents, to tell them to come up, but only tears and gasps were left to me. They listened, asked questions, but words did not come to me. It was enough of…

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Heading Home from the Wedding

Heading Home from the Wedding

Dear Z, As we were driving home from Pittsburgh, less than an hour into the trip, another car swerved in front of us and forced me to change lanes to avoid hitting him. What I didn’t see was another car nearby, fit snugly into my blind spot. Not knowing he was there, I ran into him. Hearing the crunch, I swung our car back to the right and regained our original position. The damaged car switched lanes too, slowed down,…

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