It's pretty wild to think that I started writing this blog...heck, I published my first book!...years before he was born. And now he's a teenager embarking on the next four years of his academic life. Maybe not quite a "young man," but definitely getting there. Getting there.
I am wistful today (as one might imagine). I drove him to school this morning, dropping him off a couple blocks away...per his request...much as I saw dozens of other parents doing the same (probably at their kids' requests). Gave him some parting "words of wisdom." That's about it.
*sigh*
I am so proud of my boy. I could write for many, many paragraphs about all the reasons why, "glazing" him (as the kids call it these days). Hell, why not?
We just finished (yet another) soccer tournament this weekend as he captained his team to a decisive 3-0 victory in the championship round, going 4-0 in the tournament with a goal differential of +22. And I do mean "captained" quite literally: he's the captain of the team (with the armband to prove it), he's (IMO) the best player on the field, he's giving orders and directions like a field general on the pitch, keeping the energy up, keeping the discipline solid. He had five goals himself (plus six assists) and would have had more except the refs refused to award three blatant PK penalties (probably because we were already up 8-0 and 3-0 in those games) and because the coach pulled him in several matches to give bench players more play-time (in games where the result was already decided). Just remarkable what he can do.
Then there's the volleyball thing. He tried out for one of the premier men's volleyball clubs in Washington a couple weeks ago and made the team, despite being a full head shorter than any other player on the court (he's likely going to play libero for the squad); we'll be traveling to half a dozen different national tournaments around the country this year (like I needed that on my plate). But he loves it and he loves the sport, and he's so excited about it...about playing with other kids who love volleyball as much as he does.
Then there's the academics (top honors classes), the charisma and leadership, his ability to make friends (he's already cultivated half a dozen through his summer cross-country training), his devotion to his faith and activity in our church, his discipline, his attention to his appearance (I was never so 'put together' as this kid), his humility when interacting with his friends and peers, his kindness and patience and care for children younger than himself (even his sister...most of the time). He's a good kid...a good kid. He has the potential to grow into a good adult human, something we can always use more of in our world.
I hope and pray that he does get the opportunity to grow into a good adult human. Such is never guaranteed in a country that sees random bullets claim the lives of kids in schools and churches and in the streets and at concerts and...
*sigh*
When my son was just a cute, chubby infant (always those chubby cheeks), I had no idea what he would be like, what he would become. And, of course, he is still in the process of "becoming;" we won't see who he really is for another 20 years or more. But I could not have looked down the road 14 years and imagined the young man he is at this point in his life. He has several of my flaws (now that I could have anticipated...) including a lack of patience, a penchant for laziness and whining when not engaged, and the occasional (and understandable) fall into the trap of arrogance. But I do my best, I do my utmost to help him with those challenges, having frank conversations with him, explaining the whys and wherefores of these lapses, these human frailties that we all have. And he seems to have taken these conversations to heart..he appears to have learnt and grown and is already a better, wiser human than I ever was at his age.
My boy is not me. We share many interests but not all. He prefers yacht rock to hard rock, for example. He enjoys the theater, but has no interest in acting or performing himself. He is a shorts and sweatpants kid that can easily spend 20+ minutes on his hair, while I wear blue jeans and ball caps year 'round (now, to be fair, I don't have any hair to spend time on these days, but even when I did I still wore a hat). He enjoys running (*sigh*). He is less critical than I am, less prone to see the negative, especially right off the bat.
But in more ways than not, we are alike. He is just a younger, better, more talented version of me...and talented in ways I never was and (in some cases) don't even recognize. Some of that is undoubtably stuff from his mother (duh), but not all of it. Some of it is just...him.
When he was an infant, I would just hold him and love him and marvel at him and cry thinking of how he would grow up and all these young years would be nothing but a fleeting memory. And now that he is grown, I just hold him and love him and marvel at him and cry thinking how he will continue to grow and all these young years will be nothing but a fleeting memory. But now I try to teach him, too. I love him so much. My life, rocky as it is (sometimes) is so good. I want him to have that, too. When he is an old geezer like me, I want him to be able to say, "My life, rocky as it is (sometimes) is so good." I really want that for him.
Sorry. Just feeling a little emotional today. Thank you for indulging me.
