Oggi sul sito di ITALIC un mio pezzo sulla Festa del Papà.
C’è una cosa che non ho scritto nell’articolo, ma che avrei voluto comunque dire. Quindi lo faccio qui.
Ho pensato fin da bambino che fare il papà sarebbe stato molto bello. E fin da subito ho anche avuto la convinzione che sarei stato bravo, parecchio.
Così invece non è. Fare il papà è anche molto stressante e a volte mi ha messo davanti a pensieri incredibili, che non pensavo di poter concepire. E spesso poi mi sono vergognato di me stesso.
Non sono neanche il migliore dei papà, ma questo credo, perché un papà migliore di altri non possa esistere. Insomma non è una gara. Cresciuto nell’era dei video games pensavo lo fosse. E mi sono sbagliato.
Per anni ho aspettato un momento della mia vita (narcotizzandone buona parte nell’attesa) e quando è arrivato non c’avevo capito niente. Per anni! Ditemi voi se questa non è la signora delle tranvate.
Detto tutto ciò, però, non è finito nulla. Anzi. Ci sono dei momenti, che si alternano ad altri di down, dove avverto una forza ed una capacità rispetto a quello che posso fare con i miei figli, che quasi mi sento addosso il potere di lanciare ragnatele dai polsi e saltare da un palazzo all’altro!
Forse la verità, nel diventare papà, è che si ufficializza il nostro essere borderline. Dove la convivenza con quello che ci piace deve accettare per sempre la presenza di ciò che non ci piace.
Così quando siamo a pezzi per la rabbia e la stanchezza, basta ricordarsi che sappiamo amare, senza vergogna. E se ci riesce ancora di farlo, forse siamo salvi. Forse.
E forse, siamo dei bravi papà.
Auguri!
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