I'm sitting here at the kitchen table between my daughter, who is creating a world of Harry Potter/Homestuck role play on her tablet (my own little dungeon master!) and my son, who's in game 5 of the World Series on his iPod. And I'm writing. She's asking me how to spell words and using me for references to Harry Potter. He's twitching and making video game faces while play-by-play calling and home-run celebrating. And I'm smiling.
We're sitting together, doing separate things together; what they are doing respectively doesn't interest them. I'm the tying factor. He doesn't care about her role playing; she cares nothing about his baseball game. I care about what each of them are doing, and they have no clue what I'm doing.
The TV is blaring out the background music from the menu of "The Lion King." We've watched it several times over the weekend. Once yesterday before our trip to the Chattanooga Library, once this morning after my son watched "Thor: The Dark World," and just finished it again not 30 minutes ago. It was one of 3 movies we rented on our way home from the library. The others were "12 Years a Slave," and "The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug." They were all good, but "12 Years a Slave" was the best, so much better than the other rentals. Well, better than "Thor," at least. My son said it was sad. My daughter said it made her ashamed of America during that time period. I was still reeling enough from the fact that my kids had just seen boobs and butts to form an opinion...
The only time we've been apart this weekend was today when I went grocery shopping. Talia didn't want to go, so I took Trey with me. Part of the reason she stayed and he went was because she wanted to watch "Pan's Labyrinth." The main reason he went with me was because he didn't. I've seen this movie several times and absolutely love it. I explained to her that it was a brutal, yet beautiful story. She has seen movies that I consider worse than this one. Scary movies; ghost stories; supernatural sagas. It wasn't to my surprise that she loved it, Spanish language with English subtitles and all.
She's a young lady, caught somewhere between "The Lion King" and "The Conjuring." She resides in that place between not wanting me to be in her business and telling me everything about what she's thinking. She's 14 years old, no longer a little girl, not yet a woman, but I see the woman in her pushing her way from the future and into the present. She's graduating from the 8th grade tomorrow night. She's growing up too fast, right in front of my eyes...and it hurts.
They both think I'm being silly when I'm sentimental. I sat in front of my computer the other night, looking for pictures to send to her teacher for a slide show during tomorrow night's ceremony. I found some pictures from her kindergarten year that I wanted to use, but not before being distracted by videos and pictures from both of their toddler years. I sat there far longer than I should have, remembering, reminiscing, and wiping my eyes.
I know that growing older is inevitable. I've done it, you've done it, we are all in the process of doing it. Brief seconds turn into momentous minutes. Those minutes turn into hours; into days; into months, weeks, and years. It's no shock to discover that there's not a thing anyone can do to prevent it. I think that's why it hurts. I'm a fixer. I see something that needs fixing and I try to fix it. But truly, I can't fix anything.
I see my grandmother getting older. I was visiting her last month and it's hard to admit that, even though she's going strong, in my mind, every trip to the hospital is a major reason to be concerned that I might not see her again. I see myself getting older. It isn't something that I see in the mirror as a daily progression, but it's more something that's seen in one clear moment. I may still feel like the kid in the husky jeans with adolescent dreams, but in reality, I'm the guy in the size 36 boot-cuts with a few unrealized dreams. I see my kids getting older. Now that's something I notice more frequently. Every time they return from the week at their mom's is a fast-forward in time. It's a shoe size larger here, a wittier and more mature remark there, and an all-around development to wrap it all up in.
It's easier to see the growing up occur in someone else more than myself, especially in my kids. That's because I'm constantly looking outward. That's what your eyes were made to do. You don't look with your eyes inwardly. That's better left up to the duo of Heart and Brain, who can also take on the dual task of looking outward as well. But it's a one-way outgoing street for the eyes.
They've gone to bed long ago and I've retired to the bed to finish this. I know that it's late, but I have to get this written down. I know that if next week will be here before I know it, 5:30am is going to be here much, much sooner. And now tomorrow has become today, which means that her graduation is no longer tomorrow, but tonight. I know it's going to hit me. I can guarantee some tears will be shared. Not solely because of the inability to stop time and keep my kids from growing up before my very eyes, but because they are here to pass that time with. As much as I want to tell them to slow down; that adulthood is not all that; that their growth means my aging...I also want to tell them to enjoy the fullness of that childhood-to-adult trip at their own pace, keeping in mind that time isn't going to stop, much less slow down; not for them; not for me; not for anyone.
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