Here I am, standing on the precipice of something I don’t understand.
Most things in life can be understood as being “like” something else, the approximation describing what that new thing will feel like.
I don’t imagine that it is like have a dog. Not really.
I’ve had cats and snakes and guinea pigs and salamanders and one chinchilla. It is not like those things at all.
I’ve cared for little brothers and changed their little diapers. As a kid. Because I was told to.
The very idea of creating something completely new – something you will be responsible for, something for whom you must be better – is hard to fully grasp.
It’s so purely theoretical.
Until it isn’t. Until it is out in this world, an individual with its own thoughts and dreams and desires.
Until it is revealed as a he or a she, until they are given a name that is also conceived of those same two people. Until then.
It’s all so uncontained, until then. Disparate thoughts spread out on the ether of a mind.
It isn’t like anything else. Nothing I know.
Everything will change.
That’s just fine.