Ambiguous Roadsigns

June 26, 2009

When I was younger, there were things they told me I would understand when I got older. Some of those things, like how to pay taxes or why Public Broadcasting was allowed to continue existing, did become clear as time went on. Some other things didn’t become clear, but the hidden complexity of the question did. Like why sometimes mommies and daddies stop loving each other, or why a man would consciously and of his own free will wear Capri pants.

The things I struggle with, though, are the things that nobody told me I’d have to worry about. Like the fact that I’m every day at risk of casually doing something that will stick in my children’s memory forever.  That the house I live in will be the house they grew up in, that they will think of as “home” long after they move away.  That a questionable decision I made last year means that it’s unlikely my kids will have the vacation trip they want this summer, and how that makes me feel.

That my successes and failures are no longer just my own, and that these same questions must have pulled at my father’s heart, and his father’s. That there’s no answer, only ambiguous roadsigns pointing further on – and all the while eyes, eyes that look like mine, are gently photographing and filing away every moment of our time together.

When they told me I’d understand when I got older, I assumed it was because I’d have a bigger brain and more experience. But what I have is that same child’s brain, just with a taller perspective.

I wonder how tall I’d have to be to really understand.

This entry was posted on Friday, June 26th, 2009 at 8:42 am and is filed under Made. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

6 Responses to “Ambiguous Roadsigns”

  1. Pablo said:

    Jun 26, 09 at 9:37 am

    Nicely done. I think that while the impressions we make on their remembered as disjointed, discreet moments – snapshots – their feelings towards us are based on the entirety of their experience, like an exponential moving average. Sorry, I can’t help but be nerdy.

  2. Erin said:

    Jun 26, 09 at 9:42 am

    I doubt the kids will be 30 and saying, remember that crappy summer when we had no vacation?

    I grew up pretty modestly. There were no grand vacations. Just a day at kings dominion, the local fireworks on the 4th and maybe 2 days at OC. I didn’t feel like I missed anything. But I do remember all the neighborhood kids, and the lady that made dandelion wine, swim meets, the littler things.

    I think if nothing else, you’ll end up surprised by what they remember and forget.

  3. Carey said:

    Jun 26, 09 at 9:53 am

    Well put.

    It’s startling and humbling to realize that for a time you walk as a demigod in these people’s lives.

    Just be generous to them with your time and words.

  4. Fatherhood « Streams of consciousness said:

    Jun 26, 09 at 10:02 am

    [...] June 26, 2009 A friend of mine posted something thought-provoking on parenthood. [...]

  5. Timojhen said:

    Jun 27, 09 at 3:12 pm

    To flip this and see it from the other side, I’m also amazed with how much I learn from them.

    My children have an ability to live in the moment which I should follow. They spend little time worrying about what could or should have been, and more time really enjoying the swing, rather than reflecting on how many times they’ve been on this particular swing.

    Cuts both ways, since the minor cut can make living in the moment seem like an endless stretch of pain, but I can forget how to be aware of the quality of life I have.

    I’ll always be grateful to them that they can bring me back to earth, and hope to learn how to be here now.

    Tm

  6. Dan said:

    Jun 28, 09 at 5:45 pm

    But you know it will balance out in the end…

    Think of all the good things they’ve already learned by watching you… Here’s a few I’ve seen:

    1) Always clean out the grease-trap on the grill so you don’t start a fire on the deck and then run frantic circles through the kitchen with 6 of your drunkest friends looking for the extinguisher.

    2) Several dozen examples of ways not to mount a sea-kayak.

    3) Specific ways not to poke cats.

    4) Putting sunscreen on your head.

    5) Stay the hell away from Uncle Jim.

    For me, the thing that overshadows all the rest of it, good and bad, is that one day they’ll realize that you and mom used to be people too. You didn’t always get it right, but you gave it a shot, and if nothing else you usually learned from your mistakes and often didn’t screw up the second kid quite as badly.

    Although you’d best let your wife be in charge of explaining to them why you let so many of us oddballs and nitwits hang around so much. :)

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