Golden Slumbers

Once there was a way, To get back homeward. Once there was a way, To get back home. Sleep pretty darling, Do not cry. And I will sing a lullabye.

Those John Lennon lyrics ring so true and the following describes our journey.

I took the kids to the beach yesterday. It was the first time I had since leaving their mother. Observing them in this environment and under the current set of circumstances is an amazing experience. The lesson I learned is really not so deep and not so introspective; I forgot how interesting it is to be a kid.

Let’s start with my son. Sure, we bought the five dollar spongy football. What fascinated him more than its aerodynamics was the amount of water it can absorb and hold. Also, his discovery that the tide will bring it back to shore if it is dropped in the waves. My gift from this was his statement saying, “I see how the water moves this football, and it must have been horrible watching the waves move houses in Japan.” It was at this moment that I knew that he gets it. Maybe not all of it, but he gets it. As an adult, I forget the magic in realizing the moment when the dots connect and the world jigsaw puzzle pieces begin to fit together.

After the football play, he embarked on a shell hunt. There were not many shells washing up that day. But, for an hour he watched the waterline, carefully seeing what the white retreating foam would uncover. He would see the wave recede and run to the spot of imperfection in the wet sand to discover its cause. The innocent process of shell collection is a fascinating one to watch through the eyes of an engaged 9 year old boy.

What made this especially interesting was when he returned to our spot on the beach with his treasure. I was surprised to see that of the twenty or so shells in his cup, none of them were complete or especially beautiful or interesting. I asked him why he wanted to keep them. His response was a lesson in tolerance. He said he wanted these because “nobody else would want them and they would never be collected.”

I have to believe this depth of reasoning is being fueled by the dynamics of my divorce. I can interpret his display as both compassion as well as fear. However, the message is clear that he needs trust and protection right now. I am convinced that what happens in the next few months will shape his entire life. I need to respect my role in this.

My daughter brings a completely different set of beach going behaviors. Unlike my son, she never wants to be alone. Her ability to meet and make new friends in literally minutes is outstanding. I think what I especially love about this is that she never, and I mean never either knows or remembers their name. I watched her play for two hours with a little girl and boy whom will forever be remembered as those “two kids on the beach.” What I learned is that you really don’t need all of the details to know that you like someone.

An odd behavior, again a divorce byproduct, is that she constantly asks two questions. The first, “Is that person homeless?” She is so worried about people and I am sure that she is really mostly worried about herself. Her world is so unstable right now. Her sure footing comes from comparing herself to others.

The second question she asks often is “Is this a true story?” She asks this all of the time. She had come across the horrific images of the recent earthquake and asked if it were true. She will see a dead animal on the side of the road and ask if they are really dead. I believe she is testing the permanency of her broken family and simply wondering if this too shall pass. As a dad, I need to make sure she understands that this is a true story.

So, I do tend to gush a bit much over these kids, but you know what? Too bad! I know that we three are in this together and we are starting to smile a lot more lately. It is not always paradise, but it is always fascinating.

Our journey has only just begun.