It was October 6th. My first son was born, and I was so excited and afraid at the same time. It's that feeling you get when you know your life is going to change dramatically for the best, but you didn't know what would happen. How it would play out exactly. It was the inexperience that scared me. I didn't know what would happen. How would I do as a father?
When I held him in my arms for the first time, I whispered, "Welcome to the world." At that moment, all my worries disappeared. All I could feel was overwhelming joy.
Three years passed and I'm working the graveyard shift almost everyday except for the beginning of the week. On the days I was off, I would watch him sit on the floor watching Winnie the Pooh. Everytime his favorite songs came up on the cartoon, his face would brighten up, and he'd sing along to them. His favorite character was Tigger. I'd ask him, "What's a Tigger?" and he'd sing the song by heart.
Years passed by and he's going to school already. He's got homework to do, practices to attend, and I was just very exhausted. I would spend my days sleeping while he'd do his homework alone in the kitchen. The next day, he'd return with a high grade. I was proud of him. He was very smart, talented, and creative.
He always wanted something. Almost everyday, we'd buy him a toy to play with. It ended up that he had enough toys to fill 3 storage boxes completely, but no matter how many toys we bought him, it seemed like he was never satisfied.
By the time he got to 4th grade, everything seemed to change for the worse. He wasn't the same kid for the most part. He was amazing in school, but his personality wasn't the same. I felt him feel hopeless, frustrated, tired... A lot less energetic and enthusiastic than he was. His innocence was slowly disappearing.
Middle school rolled around, and he was on top of it for the majority of the time. He became one of the top band students, took the SAT twice, was placed in advanced classes. I couldn't be more proud of him. During the opportunities I had to talk with him, I noticed he was very different. This wasn't the little boy I remembered. Part of me started to try to remember where this change took place. Maybe I didn't pay attention...
"How much have I missed?" I would wonder. The more he grew, the more I wished he would stop growing. I wanted my son back. The one who I remember. Unfortunately, time doesn't go back. Only forwards.
By the time it was his 8th grade year, he was already taking highschool courses. Became a lot more independent. He had achieved so much already. He even became a drum major and a homecoming representative for a group alongside his best friend. And it doesn't end there; he scored within the top 70 students of the district on his magnet test and got into the highschool he wanted.
Here I am, a week after highschool began for him, having a conversation about when was he younger.
"You're... already in highschool," I reminisce, "I still remember when you were smaller. When it was just you, me, and your mom. And now you're nearly grown up."
"When we watched the movie earlier today, 'Christopher Robin' brought back so many memories. Especially the Tigger song," he replied.
I smiled and said, "You still remember that?"
"How can I forget what a Tigger is? It was one of the few times we spent together that I still remember."
When I heard 'One of the few times we spent together', it brought back regrets. "Mijó, I wish...that I could've done things differently back then...maybe not work as much and been there a lot more for you...watched you grow up without missing anything."
"I know...but I learned by myself and had support from others... Sometimes even faced my fears head on."
"Even sometimes I wonder, how'd you learn so much when I wasn't there much."
"I did what felt right."
"One day you were this cheerful little boy who was curious about everything, now you're this young man who's preparing for his career soon... I wish I could've done things differently back then just so I could've spent more time with you..."
"I know."
There was silence between us then I spoke again. "What's a Tigger?"
A little glimpse of happiness appeared on his face and he responded, " I'm glad you asked. The wonderful thing about Tigger is that Tigger's a wonderful thing! Their tops are made out of rubber! Their bottoms are made out of spring! They're bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun! The wonderful thing about Tigger is I'm the only one! Iiiiii'm the only one!"
A part of the kid I knew resurfaced after many years and brought me joy.
My regret still makes me wish I could turn back time, but I can't. Now all I can do is wish that I could start over.
"Where did it all go?"
