Declaration of Intent

Hello.

I don't have the slightest idea on whether you will read this someday or not, or even if you'd be capable of understanding this language. Your mother and I have only recently learned of your existence a couple of days ago.

We suspected. Roberta's period was late, and we really wanted you to have started your journey into existence - but we were not sure. So, when the test results came, they were very welcome. I phoned your grandpa and your aunt Daniela Immediately, of course - Roberta announced you to her family through WhatsApp, and asked me to keep a low profile for a while (I think it's because of her job). 

After the news sank in, I started thinking about writing you something. To introduce myself, in a way. I always planned to do something like that, but now it seems pressing, somehow. You see, your mother has a lot more contact with you than I do. She feels your presence in a myriad of ways that I'm not capable to really relate to. She gets sick, tired, has strange feelings that she is not quite capable of verbalizing accurately (once she told me it felt just like the time she stroked, and I went half mad with concern). Her body is starting to change, her womb is swelling - you are one, your mom and yourself. That leaves me out, in a manner of speaking - I'm only the guy who's allowed to dream of you and to make plans all the time, but not much more than that. At least not yet. And that's why I sought to contact you directly. Through time, through the void. In the only way I can. 

So, here we are: nice to meet you. I'm your father. I'm 38 now. I already have grey hair, I'm short, I've began to exercise in order to be able to keep up with you. I've been told you are currently two centimeters tall, but I'm already making plans, you see. I hope you like ice cream. I hope you enjoy reading, because that's something I'd love to do together with you. I like reading stories, and particularly comic books - I have drawn a few, and tried to write some scripts (none is published to this day). Some of my favorite books are Dom Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes (and I hope we'll have fun with it someday), some of Shakespeare's plays (Richard III and Hamlet are some of the ones I favour), Terry Pratchett's books, some of Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman's works, Robert Anton Wilson's Illuminati trilogy and Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land. Sorry, I digress. It's because I like Literature, and tend to ramble on (you probably already know that).

I am an English teacher (Roberta says since I'm en route do finish my PhD I should try calling mysef a professor, but I think a teacher is more accurate), specializing in English Literature. I study Alan Moore's oeuvre, as a whole, in his recurring themes and tropes. This is quite complicated, and I fear I'll have a lot of work to do before I'll be able to get somewhere in this effort. I've written Mr. Moore a letter, but I am unsure if he's received it. If you are interested someday, I'd love to tell you all about it - my research, and Mr. Moore's life (provided you are old enough, of course). So, I think I'll probably have some nice stories for you. Yesterday we bought your first book - Saint Exupery's The Little Prince. It is a fold-in book, with the origamis based on Exupery's own illustrations. I can't wait to read it to you someday. 

So. As far as introductions go, I think this one is appropriate. I'm just a guy who'll meet you someday and is managing to keep his anxiety into check by writing you a thing or two, in the meantime. I have lots of dreams and lots of worries, and you are going to be a big part of my life from here on. I intend to write to you now and then, without really any expectation to be read by you someday - I don't know if Blogger will last, or if I will. So much can happen. I guess in a manner of speaking I'm really talking to myself, a projected image of you I have in my head. 

I'm really scared of being your dad, you know. Scared that I'll not measure up, that I might not be good enough to turn you into the sort of human being I really want you to be - king, gentle, generous, smart, intelligent. I'm not all that myself, you know - so how can I? So, that's me, in a nutshell: I fear, and I worry, and I plan and I hope. And I'm quite sure I'll be honoured to meet you someday.
Love,

Dad.