I’ve been thinking about a toddler running into the arms of his daddy a lot lately. Wondering if the boy and mama were returning from daycare, or if dad had just returned from some overseas trip, or… any number of things. I imagine to a toddler a few hours vs. a few days is indiscernable. It could have been less than an hour and the little boys brain might have been, oh my god, it’s my other big human! Big feelings in a little guy.
My dog is never that excited when I return from a trip. He’s only ever that excited when he sees me walking from the kitchen to his food bowl. And then he forgets I exist until he decides he needs to poo.
That toddler also has me thinking about big feelings and what that was once like. Remember when you were young and everything felt so fucking urgent? The absolute certainty that you were right about whatever it was you were arguing with your parents; the firm knowledge that they could not possibly understand you because they’re old and out of touch. The clarity that this girl was the only girl I could ever love. And when she broke your heart the undeniable truth that you could not possibly live if living is without youuuuuuu.
Every song was written for you and only you. You managed to somehow convince yourself that you were every character in every John Hughs movie; you were a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. And each and every one of us was unique – just like everybody else.
And our parents were dismissive because they knew better or it was their house, their rules, or – as my dad loved to tell me – there is nothing you are going to do that I haven’t already done. Maybe dad was right. Maybe he knew because he’d made the same mistakes and his dad had made the same mistakes and his dad… ad infinitum.
Now I am old and I can see guardrails my own father had put up to protect me mostly from myself and my ability to make the dumbest fucking decisions, but also to protect me from the world itself. He taught me how to throw a punch, and he taught me how to turn a wrench. He tried to teach me how to shut the fuck up and listen every once in awhile, but that has taken awhile to really take hold.
And I can see that the things I thought were so important, so deeply felt, weren’t so forever after all.
But goddamit I miss those big feelings sometimes.
