A clock ticks—
Hands move, relentless,
Time traded for presence, presence traded for time.
The Office, the Crib, the Spaces Between
He sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the glow of his monitor casting a faint blue hue across the papers scattered beside him. A spreadsheet open, half-filled emails, Slack notifications blinking like tiny sirens. A dull headache pulsed behind his eyes. He had barely slept.
In the next room, his newborn son stirred, a faint whimper slipping through the baby monitor.
11:42 PM.
He knew the pattern now. In exactly three minutes, the crying would start. In five, the wailing. By ten, his wife would be standing in the doorway, exhausted, waiting for him to move.
He closed the laptop. The emails would wait. They always did.
By the time he reached the crib, the crying had begun. Small fists curled tight, face red, body tense with a hunger that came with the certainty of being fed. His son had only known the world for a few weeks, but he had already learned one essential truth: ask, and you shall receive.
He lifted the baby into his arms. Weightless, yet heavy. A contradiction he was learning to live with.
The Myth of the Modern Father
They tell you fatherhood has changed. That men are no longer just providers, that they are nurturers, equal partners, emotionally present.
But no one tells you how to do it.
- How to be present without sacrificing everything.
- How to balance ambition with the pull of tiny hands reaching for you.
- How to exist in a world where the rules have changed, but the expectations have not.
He had asked for time off after the birth. Two weeks. His boss had smiled, nodded, said the right things.
“Of course. Take the time you need.”
Then, the emails started. Small requests at first. Then larger ones. Then a meeting invite that he probably didn’t need to attend, but couldn’t afford to miss.
By the time the two weeks were up, he was behind. Promotions weren’t given to men who hesitated. And so, he returned. One foot in the office, one foot at home, never fully standing in either.
His wife noticed.
- The way he checked his phone at dinner.
- The way his mind drifted when she spoke.
- The way he held their son but wasn’t really there.
She never said it outright. But some silences were louder than words.
Wabi-Sabi and the Imperfect Balance
Wabi-sabi teaches that life is imperfect, impermanent, incomplete.
A man cannot be in two places at once.
A father cannot give everything without losing something.
A home is built in the spaces between presence and absence.
He wanted to be more. But wanting was never enough.
Lessons from a Man Caught Between Two Worlds
- The modern father is expected to be everything. He cannot be.
- A paycheck is not enough. Neither is presence. The balance is impossible, but necessary.
- Time lost is never regained. But regret is heavier than absence.
- Ambition does not die with fatherhood, but it shifts.
- You will never get it right. No one does. But trying is the only thing that matters.
The Baby, the Night, the Endless Ticking of the Clock
He rocked his son gently, listening to the slowed rhythm of his breathing. The weight in his arms had softened, grown lighter. Sleep.
For the first time in hours, the apartment was still.
His phone buzzed. A meeting request. 7:30 AM.
His son stirred in his arms. A small sound, a sleepy sigh.
He could answer the email. He could prepare for the meeting. He could trade this moment for another.
Or he could sit, in the dim glow of the nightlight, and hold on for just a little longer.
Tomorrow could wait.
life 
Leave a comment