transition

with son spreading his wings and indulging in independent thinking and acting (apart from a financial backdrop), i realise he’s no longer a child, my child even, we are no longer in the same zone. he’s whispering his yearnings into younger people’s ears. not that i didn’t see it coming, nor that it’s in any way unnatural. i believe even i cut the umbilical cord with my own parents far earlier than he does today. but i must have gone and missed that precise moment of incision and separation, indeed. when was it that i grew this old that i can but notice him crossing the street and slipping into his friend’s parents mercedes, chasing his own dreams. the trusty merc not driven by dad, but by friend himself, reassuringly turning the motor 'round the curb and out of sight. did i blink, did i swallow?

this fall we will blot out even more memories of a bygone dream, when we replace our current house for a freshly renovated one, a blank canvas to a new dimension. nothing will be familiar then, there will be no mental notes to fall back upon, no reliable criteria to turn to. as i’m shyly inclining towards resignation, i can’t help it. apart from anything else, i’m into missing the feeling of missing my boy too.