When Zeeland Was a Child
When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
— Wim Wenders.
The unexpected surprise about being a father so far is I get to stay awake and watch old films in between baby Z’s late night feeding. Berlin was bleak in “Wings of Desire”, Munich was grim in “Ali: Fear Eats the Soul”, Siberia in “Doctor Zhivago“ was, well… but the humans in these worlds were beautiful even for a tired mind who contemplates on how much formula to feed a newborn.
At 1:00AM I’d gently take Z out of the crib, force him to take a look at the German cities from half a century ago, and then feed him. I’d talk to him like he understands — he does, to some extent — and lay him on my shoulder and watch him burp.
The feeling goes far beyond words, it can only be felt. It’s not that suddenly the world makes more sense or you’ve found someone you know you love, but more so I know in the deepest part of my being sitting on a midnight living room couch listening to this little creature breathe on my chest is where both of us need to be.
Sometimes he’d make a face. Sometimes he’d open his eyes, and take in everything — for a brief moment this one week old human being becomes the world.
Hours after Z was born I had to move the car from the hospital six in the morning. I took a short nap. In my dream I was inside a museum with Z, watching the wonders of the world through dim light, thick glasses, and dark wood frames. We didn’t speak, but we were amazed.
Then I woke up, took the train across the Hudson, picked up tea at K-town, got off at 57th street as the storm cloud cleared. The train conductor held the doors for me both ways, they must saw the urgency and excitement written all over my me.
Here’s a song for you, Z. One day when we go on a family trip, I will play this song as we blow pass your first tunnel. The light pours in and you winces, much like what you do now when I change your diaper. We’d laugh, I’ll tell you what an amazing person your mother was — and always will be — and how much we love you.
There’s so much of the world to see, Z, and I will be there with you to experience things anew.
But for now, drink the milk, and go the ____ to sleep.