I have a pretty good relationship with Paco.
He’s a sweet boy. Charming. A wonderful smile. Mischievous to the point of being cute.
A great athlete. A great sports companion. He’s 8. His innocence is eternal and refreshing.
I do my best to cherish it.
For example, you know what he wants from me on his birthday?
A 1:1 drive along the length of an entire avenue named for one of the states.
Last year, we did all of Connecticut Avenue. This year, all of Massachusetts Ave.
We saw it change from urban to suburban. From commercial to Embassy Row to residential.
I took a “mental snapshot” and savored it.
In fact, he did me proud as we drove home and were instructed by the NFO to pick up one item at the store.
She told us it was at Shopper’s which wasn’t quite on the path. The Safeway was, but she didn’t know if the item was there.
I said to Paco, “ok, buddy, we have a choice. We can go to Safeway and take a chance. If it’s there, we save time and get home sooner. If not, we lose time and have to go to Shopper’s.”
You know what he said?
“Go Big or Go Home!”
So we went to Safeway…it wasn’t there, but we didn’t care.
I thought of all of this tonight as I read an article I saw on Facebook about a dad trying to relate to his teenage son.
It gave me a “flashforward” to a day in the future when my boy may not want to talk or play with me. When I’ll be an irritation to him.
I know it is part of the rite of passage. Of separation. Of preparing for life without me.
What’s the word for pre-emptive nostalgia?
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