2001-11-29 12:55 p.m.
deep dark truthful mirror

I've never thought of myself as an adult, let alone a father.

Marivel took me by surprise by getting me into a discussion on parenting (all spiralling out of a relative's girlfriend's child and lack of discipline), and I realized that I have some pretty well-formed ideas on parenting.

Like the idea that I want my child to be brought up to express him/herself, that I want to take him/her to a musical instrument store, to teach him/her to draw, to take him/her to films/theater/concerts/science museums...to expose a new being to ways of seeing/capturing the world.

My ideas about homeschooling (help children from an early age enjoy learning), maintaining a heightened attention towards your kids for the early years (make sure the attention you're giving them is what they want/need), all of it...

I've always seen children as an abstract, something that I couldn't imagine myself having, not in the next ten years or so. Talking about them, though, about what I'd do...it's made me rethink things, if not change my mind.

I'm just discovering love for this first time in my life, now and in this past year or so. I don't want to raise a child until my love for myself and others is screwed on tighter. No one should grow up with parents who hate (or even dislike) themselves.

I'm off to Florida tomorrow morning (entries to follow, no doubt), computer and plans in hand. This is the first time I'll have seen my mom in a year, and 6-9 months for my dad.

I look forward, my mind's eye, and this all has the sensation of letting some of the past go...a premonition. I'm going to clean out my storage space, but I don't think that's all of it.

Drinks are on the boards for Dave (old friend from high school) and I, along with another friend from high school and one from elementary school, of all places.

I think this is the visit where I close the book on Dave and I as young, freshfaced, college freaks, as the two music hounds on campus who put out an indie music zine with our high school's money. He's bought his condo, settled in working for his parents (strange that I was just telling Marivel about Robert Bly's Iron John this morning), and is all but married.

I hope that he's happy. That's all I want for anyone I've cared for, whether they stay in my life or not.

I suppose I'm just sad that we've grown past our past. As I said, letting go.