Where Does The TIme Go?
Mood:  caffeinated
Sometimes I forget what a joy it is to be a father.  Seriously speaking, there are unlimited times that remind you of this, whether it is a certain way your child looks at you, the things he says, or what he does.   There are very subtle incidences of these things that you have to watch for, or you will miss them.   You get busy in your everyday crazy life and sometimes you don't acknowledge things that are, shall I say, significant.   I am not talking about your child telling you in the morning that they were supposed to have written a report on a book due that day.   Those things are in a class all their own.  What I am talking about, are the almost invisible things…the things you hear in one ear and it sticks in your brain.  You think about them later when they have been floating around in your brain for a while.   When these things finally come out, they aren't insignificant.  They mean something.  They may not mean to you what you think they mean, not on the surface and the rudimentary perception of them.   For example, Micah wanted to wear my watch.  It's a digital watch that I stopped wearing a while back because I was afraid I'd break it at my old job, where the work was too physical.   Of course I let him put it on. It has a velcro cloth band, so even his tiny 6 year old arms can hold it.  He was fascinated by the watch and wore it all weekend, staring down at it constantly and reading the time out loud.  "Dad," he said, "It's 5:23."   "Dad, it's 7:06."  "Dad, it's 10:44.".  He continued this on a constant basis.  At the time, I must have been doing something that I felt was important, because the constant reminder didn't seem to absorb.  I would only reply with a standard, "Ok, Micah.  Thanks."  Or "Really?  Ok."   His simple act of curiousity and fascination was much more significant.  One aspect of that weekend I do remember is that it went by way too fast.  However, Micah, in his extremely intelligent brain was reminding me what time it was, every hour on the hour.   He was marking time for me, and for himself.  To him, his day was marching on, minute by minute, each time his eyes saw the digital number change into another.  This was important to him, this whole concept of time and how it passed.  Occasionally I would see him glance out of the car window and observe the placement of the sun in the blue sky, and how it related to the time on his watch.   His mind was working, and he knew that the day was being eaten away as the numbers fell apart.     Soon after this weekend, he came down with his second bout of strep throat in a 2 weeks.   After 4 long days at home with his fever topping out at 104, his isolation from his friends and the outside world, the days fell away slowly, and without purpose or accomplishment.   The isolation ate at him until he knew he couldn't take it there anymore.   Today we decided we would try to get him back into school.  We knew it would be therapeutic for him, seeing his friends and the world outside once again.   Before he got into the car, he got very emotional and started to cry.   We asked him what was wrong, but he didn't answer.   We knew why, and so did he. Nothing had to be said.     It's tough being a kid when time is all you have before you start growing out of your clothes.     Who knows where the time goes?   I don't think there's an answer to that.