Letter to my unborn son

Dear Zi,

Sup, jit? It's your old man here. Your momma was just showing me this app on her phone that tracks your growth through her pregnancy. Apparently you're about the size of an apple right now. I would ask you to slow down bc you're exhausting your mom but to tell you the truth, I want you to speed up. I can't wait to meet you, son.

Damn, I have so many things I wanna say to you right now. And honestly, nothing at all. Bc which words can truly express or articulate the raw emotions burning through my veins right now? If there are any, I've yet to come across them. And son, I've read hundreds, if not thousands, of books. Words like "joy" or "happiness" or "love" are far too mundane.

Man, I got the motivation for this letter from a Tupac song. Tupac is a legendary rap artist. But don't worry about that. By the time you're old enough to read and understand this letter, I'll have made sure you know all about artists like Tupac, Biggie, Outkast, J. Cole and Kendrick Lamar and nothing about Lil Uzi Vert or Lil Pontoon. But I won't just hone you in on one genre either. No way. Not with classics from Earth, Wind & Fire in this world. Not with classics from Lauryn Hill or Bob Marley in this world. Not with classics from Curtis Mayfield, Bloodstone, Marvin Gaye, Prince, Rick James and Al Green. Yeah, son. I'm gonna raise you on some good ass music. Michael Jackson. You'll be well acquainted with George Clinton and the Parliament. You'll know some George Jones, George Strait, Gary Allen and Garth Brooks too. As well as some Sade. But enough about all that for now. I'm getting carried away.

But while I'm on the subject of music, earlier today, I was listening to an Eric Church interview on the radio that's the perfect segue for where I wanna go next in this letter. He was talking about how he misses the days before he blew up and got big time. Bc nowadays, everyone at his shows only wanna hear the hit records. But in his words, it's the songs in between the hit records that make a concert special.

That's the perfect analogy, son!

Yeah, we're all eagerly anticipating your very first breath. That's gonna be a hit record among both sides of your family, Crenshaw and Woods. (Well, really three sides of your family bc I can't neglect THE FAM!) But I'm more looking forward to 1-2 months later. Once all the hoopla has died down and me, you and your mom get settled into our routine. I'm looking forward to the song everyone skips on the album where I've worked a 13 hour day and I'm clocking out and pulling into the driveway and walking into the house that contains the melodic notes of my entire universe within its four walls. Where I'll walk in, give your mom a kiss, get cleaned up real fast and relieve her of her duties for a few hours. Where it'll just be you and I and I'm telling you all my big plans for your future, knowing you can't understand the first word. Where I'm telling you I got you and will never fail you.

Yeah, everyone is looking for the hit records like your first steps, your first homerun, your first A on a report card, your first car, your graduation. The hit records will go on and on. And don't get me wrong, I love a hit song just as much as the next man. I'm gonna be right there, heart swelled with pride and tears welling in my eyes, as you tackle accomplishment after accomplishment.

But those aren't what I catch myself fantasizing about. I daydream about the regular moments in between the highlights and chart toppers. I get lost in thinking about regular trips to the gas station with you begging me for a icee. You having a bad dream and coming to our room to crawl into our bed like every kid in the history of the world has done before you. Taking you to Open House to meet your new teachers. Those are the moments I cannot wait for. Moments where you'll say something or do something that reminds me of your grandma or your uncle or me or your mom, whether it be an action or a facial expression or anything.

Just like Church said.. it's the songs in between the smashes that make a concert (your life) special. I'm looking forward to those more than anything else in this world.

You were made with love. You are loved.

See you soon, Zi.

-your old man, Milton Jr

p.s: you notice how I did not include changing them shitty ass diapers, right? Yeah.. not looking forward to that. Like.. at all. Lol