This is love, yo (a Poem for my kids – but not yet)

18 07 2017

dad-comforts-son

I recently posted this to twitter and reposting it in an easier-to-read format.

I wrote this about being a dad to two teenagers. Maybe you’ll recognize something familiar.

This is love, yo

Me on the chair

Reading a book

With you at the water’s edge

It’s ok

Pretend

I am a stranger

Yes, you may be too old for this

Me, too

But this is how it has to be for now

One and three quarters eyes on the page

A quarter on the base of your feet

The only thing I can see in the bottom periphery

As I try to maintain attention

On the biography I am reading

Because this is love, yo

And certain to the touch

Is the odd teenage reaction

Of bending your neck so I may receive the back of your head

Sweaty, matted hair

As a surrogate hug to say good night

I will continue to comment

“Is that all I get?
Because this is love, yo

Encapsulated by a love that is beyond romance

As if it existed before you were born

Before I was born

When the universe was born

Streaming through our bloodstreams

Like quarks and stardust

Crossing paths again

For the first time

In 7 billion years

Because this is love, yo

That maybe only a parent can understand

Though understanding is a falsehood

Does an addict understand the pull of the drug?

Does a mother goose understand the urge to attack an innocent runner

Passing by knowing that

Time is finite?

This is love, yo

And when I pull up that phone for a photo

For the thousandth time

I know the rolling eyes

And guttural objections

Are only a way of expressing what is a disturbance in your day

And painstakingly

Here you are

Because I had to only endure a slight glance at a camera with a flash

That my mom never adjusted as I grew taller

For a handful of photos that all ended at my bottom lip

And now I can’t help but chronicle every glimpse in passing

Though a smile from you in just one of them

May cut down on my need

This is love, yo

And when the trying turns to hope

And the talking turns to prayer

And the seeing turns to memory

All we have is what we had

And all we had is what we were

To each other

Me to you

You to me

Us to each other

Because this is love, yo





Letting Go

2 09 2015
Maybe if I tatoo my kids' faces on my arm....

Maybe if I tattoo my kids’ faces on my arm….

This morning I sent my son off to Freshman year in high school – at 6:42 in the morning to be exact. Luckily, the haze of my mind that early in the day matched the fog sitting outside my window. I stood at the bottom of the driveway unable to see him at the bus stop only 2 houses away but still able to hear him and his friends to know that this was really happening.

It was perfect actually because had he known that I was standing there watching him as if it was his first day of kindergarten, it would have been a whole different story. A loud, unhappy story.

Like many parents, I take a picture of my kids every year on the first day of school. Today was no different. I posted it on Facebook and upon looking at it, realized what a different body and face I was looking at. This kid is in front of me on a regular basis and I failed to notice, really notice, not only how his body was changing but also how he was morphing into this new version of himself. Admittedly, maybe I have been too busy thinking about my own transition – to single dad – to really take time out and see what is changing with my kids. I’m ashamed to admit it but I’m sure there is some truth there.

I forget that my kids are not just physically aging but emotionally aging, as well. I think part of it is because I still go into “director” mode, ensuring all their needs that they still can’t muster the will to address are met. For example, I still had to wake him up twice this morning, try and find him a folder for his first day, that type of thing. Now, however, I have to juxtaposition that with the fact that while he may still need me for those types of things (hopefully not forever), he doesn’t want to need me. That’s a good thing.

I have to remember the person standing in front of me needs my guidance but I have to approach it in a way that doesn’t make him feel like a child. That takes a) wakefulness, b) patience and c) patience. (Did I mention patience?) Man, that is going to be hard for me. 

I am really excited for him. I know he is going to have a great year. He is surrounded by great friends and I am so grateful for that. I think that is probably the single most important factor in life – who you surround yourself with. It can determine your path in so many ways.

I was kidding with him yesterday that I had to drop him off at school for his first day to make sure that all the “bigger boys don’t mess with my son and that he has a handkerchief in case his nose gets runny”. It’s nice to know that even as I let go, I can always pull the “embarrassment card” and exercise some parental leverage. After all, patience is great but humor is way more cathartic.

Until next time,

Marc

Thanks again for reading. I appreciate it. If you haven’t already, please consider enrolling to get my blog posts delivered straight to your inbox through this site, email me at marckaye91@gmail.com or follow me on Twitter @marckaye91. (Better yet, how about all 3). Also, through October 15, for every new follower I get, I will be donating $1 to Nechama, a disaster relief agency, in honor of my daughter who is raising money and awareness for this great organization for her Bat Mitzvah project! https://www.razoo.com/story/Robyn-Kerachsky/ Thanks again, Marc








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