Meet Hashir. The tiny owner and CEO of the Shit and Spit Factory (my wife came up with this comic name tonight). Born in turbulent times amidst fears of an impending nuclear war, outbreak of the deadly nCov virus and subsequent global recession, he can currently afford to be blissfully ignorant of the turmoil around while his father (i.e. I) takes the brunt of war deployments, salary cuts and overtime hours. Regardless, Hashir has been a bundle of absolute joy for me and taught me more about love in the past 6 months than Pablo Neruda ever did. That love is effortless. That its incremental and sacrificial. One day, I understand it will be painful. And maybe Neruda will be helpful then. But for now, I’d rather bask in its pleasure than wait for the inevitable pain. Did I just talk about the taboo on the eve of my son’s half birthday? Yes, I think the prospect of separation (death or otherwise) brings perspective to communion. It reminds us that humans can still commit to love when they’re aware of its devastation.

I love you, son. And I thank you for restoring my trust in my ability to engage in unconditional love. Happy half birthday!