June’s water broke. I’m going to be a father. My God, I’m going to be a father. And I’m going to be a good father. Like Andrew. I’m going to build tree houses and wear funny slippers and make rhymes and stand at the bus stop every morning before work telling my child to have a remarkable day. I’m going to cook family dinners, host barbecues, sing lullabies by the light of the moon, and look for rainbows after every storm. I’m going to be present. I’m going to be brave. I’m going to put my family first, like my own father never did. Always. Forever. Until my very last breath. They. Come. First.
