Chapter 3: For Arlo

325 27 2
                                    

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I rubbed my tired eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. As I stretched, my gaze fell upon the crib in the corner of the room where Arlo slept peacefully, his little chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern.

It's been a year since Arlo came into my life, changing it in ways I never could have imagined. Becoming a single dad was something I had planned for, but life throws unexpected curveballs that will humble you.

I gently lifted Arlo from his crib, his sleepy eyes blinking open as he snuggled into my chest. His tiny fingers curled around my shirt, and I couldn't help but smile at the overwhelming rush of love that washed over me. "How are you this cute all the time, yet you do things that you did yesterday?" reflecting on the day prior when Arlo and I had a day at home.

As I hurried out the door, Arlo perched on my hip, his innocent eyes gleaming with mischief. Little did I know, he had a surprise in store for me. Just as I was about to step out of the house to take Arlo to my sister, Arlo let out a loud burp followed by a gush of warm vomit that landed right on my freshly pressed Gucci suit. Mortified, I could only laugh as I tried to clean up the mess, realizing that no matter how meticulously I planned, parenthood always had a way of keeping me on my toes.

The daily struggles of being a single dad were no joke. From sleepless nights to endless diaper changes, every day brought new challenges and triumphs. But through it all, Arlo was my guiding light, my reason to keep pushing forward, even on the toughest days.

Niall had been my rock throughout this journey. Between his shifts at the hospital, he always made time to lend a helping hand, whether it was watching Arlo while I caught up on some much-needed sleep or simply being there to listen when the weight of responsibility felt too heavy to bear. Niall was the true definition of a best friend, so much so I would say he's the brother I never had.

I eventually adjusted my schedule, cutting my hours at the law firm to part-time so I could spend more time with Arlo. It was a decision I didn't regret for a second. Watching him grow and learn was a privilege I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

One of my favorite moments of the day was bath time. Arlo loves water so if there is anything that will calm him down it's bath time. Arlo's eyes would light up with excitement as he splashed around in the water, his laughter filling the room like music to my ears. It was during these simple moments that I felt the true joy of fatherhood, the purest form of love and connection between a parent and child.

When Arlo began to explore his first foods, I couldn't help but marvel at the wonder and curiosity in his eyes. Being a "helicopter mom," as Niall would say, I freshly pureed all of Arlo's food and he seemed to enjoy them. From mashed bananas to pureed peas, each new taste was a new adventure, and I savored every moment of it. I was just proud to have someone in my life who appreciated all the love and devotion I could give.

His first words were like music to my ears, his tiny voice echoing through the room as he babbled excitedly. "Da," he would say, reaching out for me with chubby little hands, and my heart would swell with pride. "Da-Da" is all I heard erupting from him excitingly, and it took every ounce of me not to cry, but I ended up crying anyway.

And then came the moment I had been eagerly anticipating since the day he was born – his first steps. I held my breath as he wobbled unsteadily on chubby legs, his determined expression melting my heart. And then, with a burst of confidence, he took his first tentative steps towards me, and I scooped him up in my arms, showering him with kisses and praise. Being a father has been a great experience and I would never trade it for the world. I am fortunate that I live a fairly comfortable life and I will forever strive to give Arlo an even better one.

The Bank of Second Chances |  ZarryWhere stories live. Discover now