November 22, 2017

And Here I Am Again

“Time is a flat circle. Everything we have done or will do we will do over and over and over again- forever.” – Rustin Cohle, True Detective Season 1.


My mom tells a story about the first time she put me on the bus.

I was 4 and going into Junior Kindergarten.  I was little and we lived in a rural setting, so the bus was a necessity.

She watched me board the bus, knapsack affixed, and as I turned to disappear into the bowels of the yellow machine, she waved. I don’t remember looking back.

Lynne McFarland walked through the front door of her farm house and my father was waiting. He said “we’ve lost him…Now he’s out in the world.” They wept.

Time is a flat circle…

I went to high school. I walked to the bus stop on my own. Heavyset. Nervous. As I left, my Mom waved.

She probably turned to my father after closing the door and said something motherly. I would imagine it was similar to the talk on my first day of school.

I went to College. I married. I secured a career. I have a son and a daughter. All things my parents did…

Time is a flat circle…

Yesterday morning I put my 4 year old on the bus.  He’s so little. His knees practically touched his chest climbing those stairs. He vanished into the yellow bus to find a seat. I hope…

But I changed the script. I loaded my daughter in the van. We navigated through insane school day traffic.  As it turns out, the traffic was so bad I missed his departure from the bus. I parked in a no parking zone and made my way around to the Kindergarten area. There he was. My nervous little man. We hugged and I told him I was proud of him. He told me he made a friend on the bus. He was excited but tentative. His teacher was warm and said everything was gonna be okay. She wasn’t consoling Logan, she was consoling me. She could tell I was shook.

They escorted him inside and Emily, my daughter, and I came home. Mr. Rogers came on TVO Kids and I began to tear up…

Many years ago, my mother probably came inside, after watching me board the bus in 1982, and held my Sister. Her and I are roughly the same difference in age as my two.

She probably put on Mr. Rogers and kept busy. She ached inside.

I look back at all the times I was horrible to my parents. All the times that I only thought about myself and how their decisions were affecting me. I realize that many of us will taste the emotions our parents tasted.

My point is this: It appears as though the cycle continues to continue.

My son will, at some point, walk in his Daddy’s footsteps, as I did with my father.

We will argue and laugh and cry.

As emotional as this morning made me, I have rarely felt such a powerful sense of “Daddy” as I did on the trip to school today. My school experience was so awful that my need to be there for him has filled every corner of my mortal coil.

I’m hoping history doesn’t repeat itself for Logan.

I checked on my son. My boy. The little man that plays Transformers. The shy boy whose parents were doing a bad job of being brave on the outside and a worse job inside.

Just like me…

Time is a flat circle…

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