It's about noticing the way fathers are with their kids that endears them to me.

To Fathers from a Mother
by Moreah Vestan

I see you with your children
At picnics, on the street, in the park.

When I watch you lift your baby high
And mix your giggles with his
Or stretch out your arms
And crow excitedly at her steps,

When you say, “Hey guys, how about a cone?”
And your lively kids squeal
All the way to the car,
And you don’t hush them,
My heart inflates
And the flattened tires of my worries
Turn back onto the road.

You are taught not to be soft,
To bite back your tears,
To never be chicken or sissy.

You’d rather require stitches
As your medal of honor
Than merit the dishonorable discharge
Of walking away from a fight.

What transformation allows you
To look so vulnerable, so soft,
When your new baby is placed in your arms,
When your teenager comes to you in tears?

Do you have an inner tug of war
When both a sick child and a business meeting need you?
Do you wish it could feel natural
To let your heart rule over your logic?

What do you want your sons to remember,
Your daughters to tell their friends,
Your wife to hold in her heart about your parenting?

Help me to understand how it feels to be a father.
I ask as a friend, a lover, an ex—wife, a sister.

And know, when you are divided inside,
How overjoyed I am
That tender fathers
Are not an endangered species.