Tonight I stood, waiting for Brian to finish football practice, watching him far across the fields on the opposite side, lost in a blur of white uniforms. As the wind blows through my hair, I am caught by the sight of these kids enjoying this time - being kids. No car payments, no mortgage payments, no grocery bills, no relationship woes. Just video games, play, school and the like. Their bodies move with the lightness of being free, like blue jays after leftovers.
As I behold their pure joy in being kids, I think of my own father. When not much older than Brian, quit school to work the fields of the family farm in Colorado. His own father, a womanizer, gambler and drinker spent what little they had coming in on the pursuit of women. Fed up, my father decided to take matters into his own hands, quit school and go to work. My Aunt Colleen says my grandma Gladys cried everyday that he went to work in the fields. My father insisted that he did not want his younger sisters to suffer the way he had. He wanted them to have clothes and pretty shoes. Working the fields was the only way he knew to acomplish this.
That was my dad.
He would often ask my mom as to when she was going to take me shopping and then always wanted to see the clothes she bought. He also took great interest in my mother's incredible sewing and design abilities in creating some new outfit for me. My father took great pride in that he could provide a life for others, that he himself, was denied.
My father eventually went into the Army as a young man to earn more money. His sisters were entering high school. Popular, redheaded and beautiful, he knew they would need dance clothes and nice things. So off he went to Korea. He sent his Army checks back home to his mother. We still wonder how he made it through the war without money. After the war, he continued to give his paycheck to his mom to care for his sisters. Ironically, he did not hate his father. I never heard him speak a bad word about my grandpa Eston.
My Aunt Colleen tells a story of the time she saw her father in downtown Crescent City, giving a gift to a woman he was obviously very fond of. Redheaded as she was, she crossed that street, walked up to her father, and yelled “How dare you give a gift to this woman when your son, my brother works to put clothes on Margene and me and make sure we are fed!” She said she came close to spitting on him, but just turned and stormed off. My grandpa never bought any of the kids gifts, except for what little they got at Christmas.
When my mother married my dad, he was still supporting his family at age 27. My mom was concerned as to how they were going to continue to do this. Alas, as life goes, my grandpa Eston died of a heart attack. My blessed Aunt Colleen went to my mother and said "Junnie, don't worry. You and Eldon go have your life. I am moving mom in with me and I will take care of her now. Eldon deserves a life of his own"
My dad did not have Brian's type of childhood. As I watch Brian run smiling accross the football field, I think how my father never ran playing on a football field, or ask his mother what was for dinner. He was always the man, always the "dad". No wonder he died so young.
Being Catholic we are exposed to a certain religious belief. You know the drill, we die, go to heaven (hopefully- unless you are a redhead) and live there flying around forever. However, I have always enjoyed the idea of reincarnation. The idea that we incarnate with the same people repeatedly until we get it right. That makes so much more sense to me and completely explains dysfunction.
Standing there tonight, I imagine that my father is somehow reincarnated in Brian and is finally getting his chance to play, run free and just be a kid. To run free like the wind, with someone else taking the responsibility for his well-being. I know my father's DNA runs through Brian. There are things about Brian that remind me of my dad. He is kind, and cares deeply for everyone that encounters him. He always wants to help someone.
Life is strange. I myself, take no time for play. I work and fight for a life I want for Brian and me, never satisfied, always pushing. My mother tells me that everything can change in a fleeting moment. I have been waiting for that moment for a long time now. I often wonder how my father fought for his for so many years. I guess I am alot like my dad, except he made sure I had a childhood.
But there are times, like tonight, while watching Brian in his glory that I can accept that things are as they should be. For all my pushing in the world, sometimes we have to be like the willow tree and bend with the imposing wind. I am trying to bethat willow tree....it's not easy.
I seek comfort in the knowlege that my dad is with me, even if only in spirit, and that allows me to bend just a little farther back and be patient...
Until next time-
C
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