A father carries a bag over one shoulder and his baby daughter perched like a fledgling in his arms. She is still small, a pink almost-person with serious dark eyes and black bangs like a window sash, her gaze watchful. They are walking away from the community center toward the car with it's inevitable buckles. For the moment though, their bodies are in perfect communication, they use no language beyond the one they have choreographed. He hands her a bottle without breaking stride. She takes it, and, secure in her father’s arms she no longer holds on but sits, bottle in one hand, the other hand cupping his cheek, feeling for familiar texture, sliding along angled jaw. Her focus on the bottle and the approaching destination makes her hand’s small tender patting something instinctive, a rooting for comfort, love made manifest.
Fatherhood is remaking itself before our eyes.
* Rather than write a post made of ideas about the evolution of fatherhood, I wanted to share only this - a moment in which I felt privileged to glimpse the ways gender roles have shifted, are still shifting.
There are exceptions, have always been exceptions. If your father was one, tell us how it has changed you, what it gave you. If you are a father and would like a place to pull up a chair and share your perspective, please make yourself comfortable in the comments below.
"
Printer-friendly version