So, How’s It Goin?September 28, 2007 at 6:40 PM | Posted in Journal | 1 Comment
Because if I understood the context in which it was asked, I would be better prepared to offer up an answer to this interrogation you’re putting me through. Get that light of my face, dammit!
So, how’s going, *really*?–Expressed with a look of concern and thoughtfulness, and for a brief moment, your corporate predisposition of superficial interest and defensive ADD pulls back, and I see you as a real person, deserving of interest and a dose of the real me, instead of the traditional flippant response I am prone to invoke? Is that it? You really want to know?
Well, my health is good. I’m regaining my voice after having bronchitis. I have money problems. Not the most serious of my problems at the moment, but it does exacerbate the deeper ones.
I got schooled by my older daughter about my relationship with my other kids, and it made me feel like shit. I really did not intend to become an absentee father….
But it happened.
Now I have to repair the relationship with my little girl before it’s too late, and see if there is anything I can salvage with my son.
You know, when he was little. .. .well, he was the apple of my eye, I swear to God. Even as he got older, besides the fact that I love him, I liked him. He’s a good kid. Smart, sensitive, creative.
Of course, he’s also moody and distant. I swear I don’t know if that comes from his mother or me.
It could be me.
It’s all about the car, really. The car is a flippin metaphor for our relationship now. It’s broken. I worked on it and gave up. He liked it when it worked, but never came to have a look at it when it was broke down. And, as usual, his sister steps in and tries to fix things, and let’s face it–she’s no mechanic.
But she means well.
I had resigned myself to the fact, long ago (Over a year ago–and Christ on a pogo stick in a funny clown outfit, it *was* a long, long time ago. Measured in experience rather than temporal passage, it was a lifetime ago.) that not only would I not be with my wife (ex-wife now), which was for the better, but I probably wouldn’t be with my kids as much, if at all.
But all the rest–the kids, the older kids, the grandkids– the entire family………….
It’s a big chunk of my life now gone.
The older kids, especially Melissa, tell me their favorite cliches of late: "Even when you were there, you weren’t there," and–what’s the other one? I might not have been paying attention.
Oh, yeah–"I don’t even know who you are anymore–" Watch soap operas much, do ya? Geez.
But she was right about a couple of things, and I am man enough to admit that. I do need to make things better with the kids, if I can. And I shouldn’t be afraid to call them, just for fear of talking to my ex.
The hell of it is, lately she’s been the most lucid and understanding of the bunch. Contemplate that for a moment. Tne Storm–every where she goes is anger and misunderstanding leading to rage. She has been the easiest one to talk to. How did that happen…..? I’m, glad, I guess, that she’s
I don’t know what the word is. But this should tell me it’s okay to call and talk. I just don’t know what to do about my son. The car is first, obviously. Taking care of school is next. I’m going to have to do things for him, not only to try to "win him back," but also simply because he’s my son.
I came up with a solution, almost Malthusian in its finality, but not nearly as painless. And I’m sure it will lead to further hardship in the future. Breaking into my piggy bank–
But on the whole, I actually feel better. Nothing has been resolved in the slightest, not really. But I feel that I am at least. .. on track? I have a direction to go. I was wandering rudderless in an ocean of thick maple syrup. Not able to sail, and not willing to jump overboard. My Sargasso sea of syrup has–
"You know, I didn’t *really* want to hear about your freaky life. I was just making conversation. I gotta go."
And there I stand, at the copier. Alone again, naturally.