Well I'm not the kind to live in the past
The years run too short and the days too fast
The things you lean on are the things that don't last
Well it's just now and then my line gets cast into these
Time passages
There's something back here that you left behind
Oh time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight
- Al Stewart (1978)
JP turns 17 years old today.
It's a beautiful time to be his father. He's no longer a boy yet not quite a man.
Some days, I see vestiges of the boy he used to be and glimpses of the man he will become. It's a fascinating juxtaposition in so many ways.
JP is, earnest, diligent, hard working, driven, ambitious, serious, intelligent, kind, caring, competitive, funny, athletic, and confident. All of that and so much more.
He's a son any parent would dream to have, quite honestly. He's a tremendous big brother to Joe, who idolizes him. He is Christ centered, which I really, really admire about him. He takes his Catholic faith very seriously.
His work ethic is unparalleled. I've never seen anything like it in a boy his age. He inspires me.
Many mornings, before school, he's up at 5:30 a.m. and out the door for a five or six mile run. On other mornings, he leaves early for school for an Honor Council meeting, a role in which he takes great pride. After school, at least this spring, he practices or plays baseball for the MBA junior varsity team or does a track workout with the varsity track team. When he gets home, he studies before and after dinner in his room (aka "the Grind House").
I worry sometimes because he works so incredibly hard almost all of the time. I want to make sure he takes time to enjoy himself. I want him to enjoy these last 2 + years in high school, living at home, as much as he can. He's a goal setter. Always has been. I want him to enjoy the journey, though, and not obsess about the destination. I really want that for him.
At this point, it feels trite to write about how quickly time passes. Still, it's true.
As I finished a run this morning and walked down Belmont Boulevard to cool down, I could almost see JP (age 4 or 5) and me outside Bongo Java, splashing through the water running down the side of the street after a summer rainstorm on a Saturday afternoon. That one brief moment of spontaneous and unbridled joy will be with me always. The laughter and the innocence of that moment as his youth stretched endlessly before us. I thought we would be there, in that place, forever.
I have, quite literally, a million memories just like that one, of JP as a boy. I could write a book and maybe, someday, I will.
Happy 17th birthday, JP. I love you.
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