3:45 PM traffic was what I was dealing with. I was going from bumper to bumper on my grueling trek home. I had almost been sideswiped, slammed in the rear, and cut off all within a couple of minutes. In less than a mile of travel!
I was looking forward to hitting some golf balls at the range. I was looking forward to having a great birthday dinner for my wife. I was looking forward to kicking back on my recliner with the Golf Channel on. Things like that get me to and from work with sanity.
I wasn't losing it, but I was on the verge of road rage when the phone rank. It was a restricted number. This meant a few things to me: It was the dentist trying to get me in for a checkup, it was my best friend, Dale, forgetting to unblock his call, or it was someone at my sister's house.
I don't like the dentist. So I hate answering the phone when it is a 'restricted' number. Dale is required to unblock his phone or I ignore the call because, well, it might be the dentist office or my boss so I won't answer it. It was a high possibility that it was my sister's house with dinner suggestions from my wife.
"Hello?" I answered reluctantly.
There was silence on the other end. I hate silence on the other end because it could mean those pre-recorded messages that waste all of our time. But just when I was about to say 'hello' again I heard the sweetest, softest, most pleasing voice say, Papa? as if unsure of whom she was speaking to. It was Isabella.
I answered, "Yes?"
Her tiny, sweet, four year old voice sang three words that melted my heart despite the boiling point I was reaching, I love you.
Tell me: can life get any better than this? A bad shot at golf, a horrible day at work, bumper to bumper traffic, your home town baseball team screwing up the season; all weights on your shoulders that bring you down, lower and lower, to the depths of insanity.
Then you get a call from your baby girl with, I love you, and a ton of bricks on your back feel like feathers from an angel.
It made my trip home so much more urgent, but so much more pleasant because thoughts of her voice over the phone repeated themselves as I inched mile to mile.
My cousin James wants kids but doesn't want kids. Yes, he is a walking contradiction. He wants them because he loves children so much and will be a great dad. He doesn't want kids because he's scared, unprepared, and maybe financially insecure at the moment: home, parenting skills, fear of the questions kids may ask, are all a big concern.
But honestly, all you need is to have your baby grab your finger for the first time, or have your toddler wrap their arms around you because they're scared, or see your son jump for joy because he just sank a 40 foot putt for par, or to hear your child say, I love you while you're stuck in traffic, and you'll know you've made the right choice.