Yesterday marked four full moons since you entered our world, Norzang. June 12th—a day quietly sacred in our little calendar of life. You're now four months old, and already, you're showing the quiet strength of someone learning how to be here.
You can lift your head with steady purpose, and your neck now proudly supports that curious gaze of yours. You play with pure joy, laugh like the world itself is telling you jokes only you can understand. Your grip is strong—you reach out with your tiny fingers, determined to hold on to things, as if you already know the world is made to be touched, explored, and loved.
Your eyes follow the light—every flicker, every passing shadow. Sometimes, you're completely lost in the dance of the world outside, your gaze fixed on movement and mystery. Perhaps this is how wonder begins: distraction becoming discovery.
I often find myself wondering what you see—what must all this look like to you? To be brand new in a world already spinning with colors, shapes, and sounds. Whatever it is, I know one thing for certain—you find it endlessly entertaining, and that alone fills my heart.
A week before your fourth-month milestone, the doctor noted your healthy weight at 6.4 kilograms, and your height continues to grow like a little sprout after spring rain. You are blooming.
Your mother is tired—beautifully, lovingly tired. And as I watch both of you, I feel an ache of gratitude. You, her, and my parents—you are the compass points of my life, the meaning behind my every day. You give my living its purpose.
May you continue to grow strong, healthy, and kind.
May you become a good human being.
And may you always know how deeply you are loved.
With all my heart,
– Dad
Written on June 13th, 8:05 a.m., on my way to work
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