The Eyes of My Father
My father always seemed old. Okay, maybe older is a better word. He never seemed ancient and he certainly has never been like "old guy." Old guy is a guy in my office that is slightly 10 years older than me but has seemed old since probably the day he was born. I swear to God his mother gave birth to him and he came out in a tie gripping about those nasty kids. He drives a Cadillac, need I say more?
My father never even seemed older in the way that young people view those 10 years their senior. Like they some how came from a world alien in from their own. A world with completely different culture, values and rituals when it comes to growing up.
No, my father just seemed like a father. He mostly stood in an adult world but still had or toe or two in the world of a child. As I cross through the midpoint of my life I often look at myself in terms of my father. I consider my age and the stage in life of my son. I think about how when I was at that point, my father seemed old, grown up. So adult. Then I catch myself when I realize I am now viewing myself through the eyes of my father. It seems nearly impossible to conceive that I could be his age now. He was adult, beyond childhood, a million miles from his youth. Stories were distant vignettes of the past. Views of another time and place. Now that distant world is my own.
Viewing yourself through the eyes of another is a difficult exercise at best and in many ways a simple illusion. After all, can we really ever enter the mind of another? Still, if you listen to their words and reflect on moments in time it is possible elevate yourself from your own body and stare down upon yourself.
So am I really so old? Have I become my father? In truth every step of life, every moment we exist is a moment we can never reclaim. It passes as quickly as it happens into the realm of recollection. It is true what they say, you can never go back but oh how we do try. Any perfect moment in place and time can never be reclaimed however diligently we try. Sadly, it can only be remembered.
As I age I talk to my father about the daily trials of life. I realize he experiences the same things and I know how much I have in common. As you age, age seems to disappear. The cavernous gap that once seemed to exist is bridged with the shared and common experiences of life. I also wonder when I do those silly little things that define the lighter side of life witnessed through an act, a joke or a moment of immaturity, did my father do the same things yet I failed to notice?
I think having a child enhances these thoughts, these questions. Every day when you look at your child it is like looking into a mirror of yourself. It is a self analytical experience that leads to a unique introspection. Every day I see the acts of maturity and immaturity. I watch my son change a reflection of experience and responsibility in life. It makes me wonder if he has a child, will they one day see the world through my eyes?
My father never even seemed older in the way that young people view those 10 years their senior. Like they some how came from a world alien in from their own. A world with completely different culture, values and rituals when it comes to growing up.
No, my father just seemed like a father. He mostly stood in an adult world but still had or toe or two in the world of a child. As I cross through the midpoint of my life I often look at myself in terms of my father. I consider my age and the stage in life of my son. I think about how when I was at that point, my father seemed old, grown up. So adult. Then I catch myself when I realize I am now viewing myself through the eyes of my father. It seems nearly impossible to conceive that I could be his age now. He was adult, beyond childhood, a million miles from his youth. Stories were distant vignettes of the past. Views of another time and place. Now that distant world is my own.Viewing yourself through the eyes of another is a difficult exercise at best and in many ways a simple illusion. After all, can we really ever enter the mind of another? Still, if you listen to their words and reflect on moments in time it is possible elevate yourself from your own body and stare down upon yourself.
So am I really so old? Have I become my father? In truth every step of life, every moment we exist is a moment we can never reclaim. It passes as quickly as it happens into the realm of recollection. It is true what they say, you can never go back but oh how we do try. Any perfect moment in place and time can never be reclaimed however diligently we try. Sadly, it can only be remembered.
As I age I talk to my father about the daily trials of life. I realize he experiences the same things and I know how much I have in common. As you age, age seems to disappear. The cavernous gap that once seemed to exist is bridged with the shared and common experiences of life. I also wonder when I do those silly little things that define the lighter side of life witnessed through an act, a joke or a moment of immaturity, did my father do the same things yet I failed to notice?
I think having a child enhances these thoughts, these questions. Every day when you look at your child it is like looking into a mirror of yourself. It is a self analytical experience that leads to a unique introspection. Every day I see the acts of maturity and immaturity. I watch my son change a reflection of experience and responsibility in life. It makes me wonder if he has a child, will they one day see the world through my eyes?
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