Beautiful Windows

I struggle so much with being a father.

Counting the days until my son learns to talk, counting the hours until (I assume) I can communicate with him and teach him how to be a man, I look at my little one year-old, staring at me, searching for answers and whimpering, unable to say what he really needs. I wish I were a better man, I wish I weren't frustrated, but I am, and it seems to happen a lot lately, especially as my son becomes more active, more physical, more aware of his surroundings. I wonder if this is the anguish that most fathers face--maybe it is, but maybe I'm just not very good at being a father.

All I know is that when I look into his eyes, I look at a human being who is in the bud of life, and I (through no skill or thought of my own) have been given the immense responsibility of teaching him what it is to be alive, to love, to fight, and to be alone when no one else wants to do what is right. I wish I had something inspirational to say about it, or a lesson learned that offers me insight into how to be a father, but sadly, I came into this job with the kind of training so many of us seem to have had. How do you walk into the most sacred role that humans have been bestowed when you have never had a good father to raise you?