For a year or so after my son was born, I found myself feeling angry at my father. Driving home from work, or pushing the baby's stroller in the park, I would think of my father and feel my jaw tighten with resentment. It didn't take long for me to figure out where it came from: the overwhelming love and protectiveness I felt toward my infant son, the pain I felt when I had to leave him, was not something I'd ever heard my father describe. It was not something I could imagine him feeling. Why didn't he feel it? And how might I be different had I felt from my father, every day of my childhood, the visceral and attentive love I am helplessly driven to lavish on my own son? Who might I be? |
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