No man walks in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.
Heraclitus
It's one of my favorite quotes. As I sit her tonight, in a basement Airbnb in the Belmont neighborhood of Charlottesville, VA, listening to the Coldplay album, Parachutes, I am not sure if it applies to me or to Joe.
As "Yellow" plays on my iPhone, I can't help but remember a weekend away with Jude 25 years ago this summer, in the Highlands, NC, when I played the album, and this song, over and over on my iPod. We weren't married yet. No children. No house. No iPhones. Just a couple on a getaway weekend to the mountains in North Carolina, listening to a relatively new band with a hit album.
Reprising my role from four years ago with JP, today I dropped Joe off at Woodberry Forest Sports Camp, an hour north of Charlottesville, VA. He will be there for three weeks. On his own, trying to figure out . . . well, a lot of things. Where he fits with his group of boys. What it's like to be away from home for so long. What kind of an athlete he is. How to make friends, in a relatively short period of time, with a group of boys he has never met before today.
Is he ready? Honestly, I do not know. I feel strongly, though, that Joe needs this. He really does.
It's so hard being the youngest in the family or so it seems to me. Others do things for you. You are the youngest, so you are treated differently. Always, there is someone looking over your shoulder, helping you, instructing you, correcting you. Steering you in the right direction, or at least trying to do so. It must be hard to forge your own identity as the youngest in the family.
As I write this, I am hesitant to look back and see what I wrote about JP when I dropped him off at Woodberry Forest for Sports Camp, four or five years ago. In my memory, it seems like JP was more ready to be on his own for three weeks than Joe was when I walked off the football field today and left him with his group of boys (teammates), Alabama. It's strange to feel that way, since Joe has slept away at Camp Widjiwagan for several years and, in contrast, JP had never been to a week long sleep away camp before his three weeks at Woodberry Forest.
They are such different boys in so many ways. Why is it that I find it so hard, sometimes, to realize that? Same parents, different boys. Very different personalities. Different approaches to life. And that is absolutely fine.
Woodberry Forest was a transformative experience for JP, or so it seems to me in my mind's eye. I want it the be the same for Joe. I want him to develop renewed confidence in himself and, more importantly, a sense of independence. I want him to begin to believe in his ability to survive, and thrive, without Jude, JP, or me looking over his shoulder, correcting him or guiding him every step of the way. I want him to begin to figure it all out.
Middle School at USN is over. Hell, the protective cocoon that USN provided is gone. This fall, Joe will walk into the crucible of seventh grade at Montgomery Bell Academy. As my friend, John Rowland, said, "MBA is a competition every day. Academically, athletically, and socially. Is Joe up to it? I hope so.
To me, as it was with JP, this marks the definitive end of Joe's childhood. He's on his own for three weeks. It's never happened like that before. Today, I left Joe in a cauldron of competitive, high achieving, athletic boys. What will he be like when we pick him up in three weeks? Tougher? More independent? More confident in himself? More self-reliant? All of those things, I hope.
It all goes by so fast. Every time I walk by a father holding his infant son, or pushing him in a stroller, I want to grab him by the shoulders, look him in the eye, and tell him how fast it all goes by. To enjoy every single minute. Every single second, actually.
My boys are not really boys any longer. It happened so damn fast.
No comments:
Post a Comment