Just woke up, but not what you're thinking

Something just dawned on me. Granted, it's probably not the first time I've thought what I'm about to reveal to you, but it's the first time it stood in front of me cloaked in reality. It was almost the polar opposite of the fictional dark caped crusader Jakob and I watched for the um-teenth time tonight. This one was just as eye opening, but real.

So get to the part where you tell us, right? Okay. I didn't mean to build it up as much as I probably did. Now I'm just stalling or perhaps pandering like Kirk Douglas during the Oscars. I don't want to be that guy. I'm getting there. Really I am.

Years ago, believe it or not, I was a little bit of something while attending Northwest Missouri State University. Yes, the best (and only) Division II school that would allow me acceptance. I started out misguided and while I'm not sure I ever really recovered, I found a niche. I was good at Forensic speech. Now, before you call me something off-color or lump me in with those debaters (bottom feeders) let me tell you that I learned more about public speaking and the wonderfully bittersweet moments of life in that short time while I was on the team. Each weekend we competed I felt alive and it fed my ego.

I won't lie to you, I've got a ton of trophies and plaques from various competitions I don't even remember attending. Most of them have survived the test of time. Some of them are engraved with my name. I'm sure that others were lost by my mother during one of my many moves to and from my parents' house but I can't prove it. In the event you think that when my mother reads this that she will be appalled, you need to know that she knows I'm kidding and any sense of humor I have is a result of her and my father's influence. So blame them.

So these trophies and the point of this story. You were promised that before. They are in the bat cave on a shelf that reaches high up almost to the ceiling. If you've been in my basement, you know it's not THAT high, but you get the idea. Lots of space. Lots of awards. Tonight, I was getting one of my favorite beverages out of the fridge (Pepsi One), and after I opened it I set it down on the shelf to plug in my laptop. It's a Dell and vastly superior to any Apple junk, but that's another story.

I returned to get my drink and noticed that I had placed it on one of the plaques that happened to have my name on it. That's when it dawned on me as to how things change. This isn't one of those "these things are really meaningless and what really matters is friends and family" stories. Sure, those things do matter, but these awards did too. Now they're just above coasters (except for the one I used as said coaster).

This is really more about transitions and how I can walk seven feet from my college awards to the leather couch where my 3-year-old and I sat closely together and watched the Justice League. I can sink down into the cushion and when I ask my son who the caped figure on the television with a black bat on his chest is he points to himself. He then points to Robin and says, "That's you daddy." It sure is buddy, and I couldn't be more proud.

In typical situations, the dad would probably be the hero with the son being the side kick, but if anything, he's taught me more than I'll ever teach him. Sure, I'm charged with helping him with girls and life and God, but he has the power to build me up or crush me with just a few words. He's not a trophy from some competition. Sure, we chose him and I shutter at times at the "what might have been" moments. I don't so much think of what his life would be had his birth mother decided to keep him, but rather how empty my life would be without him. I know deep down I would have known that somehow. There are no amount of trophies that can fill a small, endless hole like that.

So, once again I've woken up to something I didn't even know I was asleep to. Not a bad way to spend a random Tuesday evening. I'm looking forward to less days of "I don't want to daddy" and more filled with "Smell my hands daddy. See, I washed them."