The Big O and I went up to Tehachapi last night and stayed with Papa (my Dad). No one else was there, only us three.
I sat on the floor of the living room and watched O play with my father. They were playing with the Big O's Brio trains. Together they laid track and together they ran trains. I played some too, but mostly I watched.
The sight gave me a strange sense of ... history? family? time?
I'm not sure.
Among the thoughts passed through my mind was this one:
That is not my father; that is me. This is not me; this is O. That is not O; that is some as yet unknown person whom we all will love....
As we drove up to Tehachapi, I was feeling tired enough that I considered arriving; saying, "Hi, Dad"; then excusing us to bed. But no. He needed time with his grandson.
Often my father and I have little to say. We are not unfriendly or anything, just without much to say. But now I have a new way of viewing our relationship. There on the carpet we sat, three oldest sons. Once I was the two-year-old. Now I am the young father. How have my father's feelings for me changed since I was the two-year-old and he was the young father?
I don't know, but I finally begin to see how he felt for me, how he feels for me now. I am starting to understand why things I did hurt him. And I have a strengthened desire to have the touchpoints of our relationship be founded in love.
In part, I suppose, to create a karma spring that will bless the Big O and I as we age apart.
So that we may age together.