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| As we once were. |
This is not to say that I have siblings who have passed. My father simply explains child rearing as akin to making a friend who slowly dies.
That sounds exceptionally bleak. Maybe it is. Maybe I don't fully understand. What I think is: my dad thoroughly enjoyed raising the three of us. We were fun little kids to have around. And while he loves us individually as adults, we no longer are who we once were. Sometimes I feel bad about that. I worry that my inevitable maturation is distressing for him.
Then, I reflect on the times we spend together, and marvel at our conversations. I'm amused by our mutual sense of humor, and I appreciate my ability to understand him on a new, more grown up, level.
It's pretty cool that we get two chances to develop a relationship, and learn about one another in entirely different ways.
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| Dad and I after a ceremony symbolizing my entry into adulthood. |
Kids are more like helium balloons. You hold on to them for a while but eventually you let go and they float away. Often that happens when you are not paying attention. You wonder where they are going and where they will end up.
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