THE ROMANCE OF PARENTHOOD AWAKENS
The impulse hit me like remembering something you forgot when you’re already on the highway. Like love at first sight. Suddenly I wanted children. Not just wanted, I thought I needed a baby, like you need your own pillow when you go far away, else when you arrive, you can’t get comfortable, desiring to rest your head on more than a memory of something you forgot.
Deciding to be a father, I wondered if among the ladies with whom I had shared a hypodermic injection of hope might be one who would give me another shot, this time skipping the romance to avoid the overdose. If we formed an alliance for procreation, and stuck to raising a baby, maybe it would work. It was an idea that led me to the greatest adventure of my life.
The spiritual void at the core of my existence was filled because God wears a diaper indeed. Actual babies are immortal. They — we — never lose that eternal connection. We see ourselves in the depths of an infant’s eyes. All we are that will never die is there.