Last time I posted here was a time of agitation. Two nights later is a relaxed moment. It's a time like this one that I love life -- not something you normally hear me say.
But I enjoyed cooking dinner for the kids after an enjoyable conference call with two business partners I like at the conclusion of a day with the right amount of work and conversations with enough friends as to not feel isolated in the world.
Locating the balance, for me, can be difficult but is critical.
My soccer player son is coaching young immigrant kids in Oakland this week, volunteering with an organization trying to use the sport to help them get acclimated to this country. He is working with the youngest kids (as young as three!) and says it is hard work, which I'm sure it is.
He doesn't complain about it. He napped when he came home after it this afternoon, then walked to the gym and back for his usual one-hour workout.
His little brother walks dogs and earns money that way. He came over and ate a massive amount of the pasta I cooked -- for such a slender if tall fellow, he eats more food than anyone else around here, easily two or three times the amount I consume, though I'm not a big eater.
I've moderated my diet over the years to the point I prefer small portions and my weight is around 25 pounds less than it was in the recent past. I feel better this way.
My daughter got out of her long day as a junior counselor at the SPCA and I drove her to her club soccer practice. Again, she was tired but she didn't complain about any of it; she seems committed to moving to the next level and working hard at the sport, following the example of her brother-coach.
Her competitive streak is something I've slowly come to appreciate as one of her hidden virtues.
The two athletes simply don't complain much, a theme of this post, and I don't know why. Maybe pushing their bodies constantly releases endorphins or other substances that make them more at ease with the world?
By contrast, my dog-walker and I are both prone to moods where we complain a lot. We're the sedentary types, usually prone in front of screens or books of one type or another, and rarely interested in going outdoors just for the sake of doing so.
By volunteering in Oakland, the 17-year-old is mastering Bart, our regional subway system, finally. He has not had much confidence is how to navigate his way around this complicated metropolitan area on public transit at times, but now he is gaining that confidence, commuting to and from the Fruitvale District daily.
His "little" brother, by contrast, is exceptionally good at figuring out bus and train routes and getting himself here and there, rarely if ever asking for help.
My youngest has not yet had much experience in this regard, but that will probably start this fall with taking buses with her friends to soccer practices. Again, soccer is the great educator here, the great motivation to get out in the world and learn about it.
Given her artistic tendencies and talents, she will likely always spend time alone, pursuing her dreams, so being able to become self-sufficient and confident out in the world beyond her studio and home will be a big part of her finding the right balances in life.
As an old man, I think about these things endlessly. I have no choice but to envision their world without me in it. The inevitability of that outcome gives urgency to these musings.
In that way, this is not another innocent journal post, by a single Dad, writing about his family. There is nothing romantic or nostalgic or arrogant here, I hope. It is a modest conversation, the words flowing as easily as the bubbly water, cranberry juice or lemonade the kids and I all drank at dinner.
I'm just happy to be alive, happy to be a father, and happy to be able to relate small progress here and there, as I observe my children growing toward adulthood.
Last time I posted, I was filled with anxiety. This time, I am at peace.
-30-
No comments:
Post a Comment