Newsletter from Jay Wilcox - November 2023: On Advice from Ghosts

Good morning/afternoon/evening!

I don't know if you believe in ghosts. Some family members recently visited a medium who claimed to channel ancestors from the other side--beings who, through this medium, described my unborn daughter as "an absolute delight." In fact, these friendly spirits had already nicknamed her "Twinkletoes." How I wish I could have sat in on this session! Neither Hannah nor I were present, but apparently the spirits advised us to "enjoy this moment."

See, that's where I get stuck.

First of all, it's weird to think about anyone already knowing my daughter before I've even met her. What's Ursula like as a person? More importantly, what about her toes seems particularly twinkly? Secondly, I'm not even sure how to follow through on these ghosts' advice. Enjoy this moment? If I'm already enjoying this era of my life as much as I'm able, why do I still worry about the future?

Toward the end of The Office, as the series is coming to a close, Andy Bernard wistfully says, "I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them." I'm keenly aware I'm living in the Good Old Days! Now what? How do I, like Silly Putty pressed over a page of Sunday comics, spread myself further across this present, imprinting myself with every rich detail? I feel like life's passing both too quickly and too slowly, and even if I'm operating at maximum absorption, there's only so much I can savor.

Maybe ghosts appreciate life because it's gone. I think about every time I've visited a new city and how it's easier to make out all the businesses and signs from across the street, a perspective predicated on removal, distance. In three months, my daughter will come into the world. Every time I feel her kick, my hand pressed to my wife's belly, I will myself to pay more attention, to zero in on that tiny thump and remember it forever--but still I worry I won't fully appreciate this era until I'm looking back.

I want to experience and truly enjoy everything on this side of the street before crossing over, and perhaps the joy of having a baby lies in their ability to be wholly present. Hannah and I are putting together a nursery. We took two nights assembling a combination dresser/changing table, matching screws and dowels and slots, so many small pieces tucked into the whole, the memory.

I heard parenting is super hard, so any good vibes or luck or anything would be appreciated.

Infinite Regards,

Jay