Me: What is it, kid.
The kid: ...You don't sound glad to hear from me today.
Me: Yeah, sorry. It's just—your mother's been very sick lately.
Kid: Because of me?
Me: Well, yes. But it's not your fault.
Kid: Do you ever wish you weren't having me?
Me: No, we always wanted you. We spent a year and a half praying for you. You were not easy to conceive. But hyperemesis gravidarum is no fun for anyone involved. Probably not even for you.
Kid: I am often reminded of the tempests upon the Sea of Galilee.
Me: Quit showing off, that's my job.
Kid: Heh.
Me: Heh.
Kid: Really, though—won't you miss your independence? All the fun you had when it was just you and Mom and Felix?
Me: Sure I will. I miss my twenties too. But you know, I had my twenties. I'm glad for the experience and the memories, but that time is past. That's how it works, kid, you'll see. Choosing anything means rejecting everything else, and one phase of your life has to die for the next one to be born.
Kid: It is Margaret you mourn for.
Me: Seriously, quit it. Although—nice one.
Kid: Thanks, Dad.
Me: Good talk.
Kid: ...Dad?
Me: What's up, kid?
Kid: Am I killing a happy phase in your life?
Me: Nope. It's been a very happy phase, but we spent a lot of it missing you. You know how the idiot—I mean, you know, Felix—tends to yowl at the door and then dither about actually going outside once it's open? People are the same way. We were often upset about not having a kid, and now we're sometimes upset about having one. But in the end, we wouldn't not have you for anything in the world.
Kid: Everything's gonna change when I come.
Me: Believe me, I know. Luckily, the good Lord gives us nine months to get ready for that. Everything changed when we got married, too, after all. Everything's always changing. But also, the important things don't. We love you. That won't change. It's not a bad bedrock to stand on.
Kid: I know you meant, "on which to stand."
Me: Oh, put a sock in it.
No comments:
Post a Comment