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By the time everyone reads this, you"ll be here. As I write this, it's Wednesday evening, and The Daily Times is settling in for the hum of the night shift.

I'm making preparations to take three weeks off for you, and I've put off writing this as long as possible. My palms are sweating, my heart pounding, as I think of your imminent arrival tomorrow morning.

As the hour grows closer, I'm discovering deep wells of emotion that were previously hidden from view. Every parent I know has told me just how much my world is about to change, how topsy-turvy everything will be, and I've nodded as if I somehow understood what they were talking about.

Most of the time, they just smiled and shook their heads, because they knew words don't do justice to the miracle that's about to take place.

Even now, I don't know what that's going to be like. As it gets closer, I'm getting an idea, but tomorrow I get initiated into the fraternity of fatherhood. And tonight, I feel like a pledge, a guy who's waiting patiently to get in but is scared to death he's going to screw up.

I've screwed up a lot of things in my life, son, and that's one of my biggest fears -- that you will somehow have to shoulder the cost of my sins. That doesn't make sense to you, I know; it doesn't make sense to me, but I still feel it. To tell you the truth, a lot of what's running through my head doesn't make sense, and it's taking an incredible amount of willpower not to freak out. I don't know whether to scream and smash stuff or curl up in a corner and weep.

Can I do this? I hope so. Believe me, I plan on giving it the old college try. I don't know exactly what it is I'm supposed to do or how I'm going to go about doing it, but I intend on doing everything I can to raise a strong, compassionate man. I have so much I want to do to accomplish that, I should start making a list -- songs I want to play for you, places I want to take you, people I want you to meet, things I want you to see.

I think, what scares me more than anything, is the reality of you, as a person. It's not like I'm getting a dog here; I'm being entrusted with your care and your upbringing ... but I know there will come a time when you come into your own, when you make your own decisions and your own mistakes and suffer the consequences for those mistakes.

And no matter what I do between now and then, all I can do when it happens is to continue to love you and help you through it the best I can.

Listen to me. You're not quite here yet, and I'm already projecting ahead to the day you become your own man. I know better; each day is a gift, son, and by fretting about the past or focusing on the future, I'm not enjoying the present.

And the present is what matters most. The present. What an appropriate term, because tomorrow morning, I'll get the greatest gift I'll ever receive in this life or any other. I'll get you.

My son. My boy.

It's the start of an enormous, exciting adventure. I don't know what's in store for us, son, but I know that we'll always face it together. You and me, no matter what.

So come on, Ezra. Take my hand. Let me show you the world.

Steve Wildsmith is the Weekend editor for The Daily Times. Contact him at steve.wildsmith@thedailytimes.com or at 981-1144.