Saturday, September 12, 2009

From Japanese Guitars to American Choppers

Distance is often a state of mind. You are as far from or as close to home or another preferred destination as you believe yourself to be.

This week the distance between us seemed extraordinarily and remarkably short. Given that Rob is so far away geographically that is not always so. But this week the fates conspired to conjure up a little magic and make him seem much closer than Margaret and I know he is.

And in my role as little more than the conduit through which the signal was triangulated so that the lines of communication were open and static-free, I marveled anew at the incredible strength of my wife and the amazing growth of my son. How long ago was it that he was a boy? It seems at times both yesterday and about a million years ago. And it never ceases to amaze me how resilient he is - occasionally knocked a step or two back but never down and never unwilling or unafraid to keep on his intended path. He is every bit of his mother's son.

If he could have a better example to follow than her, it eludes me presently. The seemingly seamless manner in which she not only keeps her idiot husband from doing really, really stupid and injurious things to myself while being there as Suzanne's confidante and sounding board, Joe's guardian angel and Rob's protector would seem to require significantly more surface area than that which is found in a little wisp of a human being who has spent her life staring up at the cowboy's arm at every amusement park she has ever visited.

Son and mother. Mother and son. Standing together (although 2000 miles apart) and taking on whatever challenges confront them. Same as it ever was.

And it is my wish and my expectation that it remains just this way for the the entirety of their lifetime together. I am feeling pretty confident about my chances.


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