When absence makes the heart fonder, as it truly does, it manages this by helping us forget the flaws and accentuating our favorite qualities in the ones we miss.
Aaron went to camp on a Sunday. I wondered before how long I would need to be away from him before I started to miss him. How many days to dissolve the crust of familiarity and find the juicy center of fondness? By Thursday I knew: the answer seems to be three.
Lately I've had, I confess, trouble liking him. What that really means is liking being around him. Like inquisitive children everywhere, Aaron has no idea when NOT to ask questions. Whether presented in the form of the incessant "why?" barrage, or the constant tendency to butt into conversations that don't concern him, this overweaning curiosity eventually grates on even the most loving parent. Parents are adults, and adults are used to living in a world where people mostly know when information is likely theirs for the asking. Children seem to have to learn it, and it seems to take a long time.
I know this, and I know that this fact makes me crazy sometimes. Yet, three days into an absence of Aaron, I found I could no longer feel annoyance at the thought of it. The frustration I know I felt in dealing daily with him had melted away, leaving only fond memories of his fine mind and infectious love of whatever interests him. And I was aware anew of the cameraderie that has built up in the places where our interests intersect. I recognized again the simple warmth that emanates from the practice of caring, further deepened by the presence within myself of that portion of his own well-being which he is not yet able to shoulder, and for which I am currently steward.
It was a constructive separation, a useful reminder to reflect upon when I need to remember that the love of a father is strongly there underneath, even in tedium-coated times when I can't imagine what it feels like. Tomorrow, as we sit around the campfire and fight over whether it's a worthwhile pursuit to consign every visible woodchip to the flames, I will try to remember.
2 comments:
I love the way you word the fact that kids annoy us but we still love them. The constant questions! Agh!
Oh Mike, oh Mike, oh Mike- I was nodding the entire time I was reading this post. I can relate to it on every level!
My mom had the girls for 2 weeks this month, and I missed them like crazy. I thought about them the entire time and couldn't wait to hold them again.
But the questions, oh the questions! I swear, they can ask the same question 7 times just phrasing it a little bit differently, using different tones and inflections, and making it sound like a new thing every single time. From the outside, the inqusitive tendencies are endearing and adorable, but to be in the eye of the storm, it's exhausting. Both girls seem to fire at me at once. I have to remember to breathe deep sometimes.
Right after they were born, probably the best insight given to me was by my boss- she said that we love our kids always, but it doesn't mean we always have to like them.
Thanks Jer for linking me to this- Michael, I've got to bookmark your blog and keep up on it. I'm a huge fan of your writing!
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