Christopher (left) and Nico getting ready for the first day of school. Nico in 1st grade, Christopher in Kindergarten
August 17, 2015
I was sitting in the doctor's office waiting room for my son to be called into the backroom for therapy. He's okay; it's only a speech delay. He sees a therapist weekly to help him with his word enunciation. When parents embrace situations like this, they allow their kids to defeat any development that could hinder their potential. After it's all said and done, I wouldn't be surprised if he became the next Bob Costas or Al Michaels. (Amazing broadcasters)
I tell myself, "Self, it's okay; all kids develop differently." That thinking is for my assurance, not your reassurance. For any parent, being told about anything that could affect your kid's life and/or health, no matter how small, has a rippling effect on one's ability to cope with it head-on, no matter how cliché that may sound.
But I embrace their strength as I embrace my children's life lessons, for better or worse, till death do us part. I know what you're saying, "Chris, those are wedding vows." But I'm married to my kids. Through thick and thin, I will be there for them in sickness and in health until my boys give me a heart attack.
It wasn't too long ago when I was their age. When life at the doctor's office seemed like the end of the world. I hadn't known what was happening around me during my time there. The faces of the adults were blurry, and their voices were as strange as the teacher's voice I heard during the Charlie Brown and the Peanuts cartoons.
But being around my two sons reminds me more than ever that I was once their age. A simple point about an old scar on my leg placed my childhood into perspective.
"Dad, what's this," my son said as he pointed to a scar on my shinbone.
"Well, I had an accident when I was around 15 years old."
"Oh no, daddy! Did you go to the doctor? Doctor! Doctor! My daddy is hurt!"
"All is well here," I announced, "no worries, thanks everyone."
"This is an old injury that happened to your old man long ago. And I'll tell ya what happened.
I was fishing on a pier with my brothers. The pier jettisoned from the beach about 100 yards out above the ocean. We arrived around sunset and had plans to stay long after the sun disappeared under the horizon. All the other anglers were catching fish. Sounds of people shouting for joy could be heard through the thunderous waves and the crying seagulls. But my brothers and I had seen not one fish. Not even a little fish.
As it got later in the night, the breeze turned into a strong wind, and an icy chill went through my body. The gusts of air were relentless no matter how hard we tried to cover our exposed skin; it just wasn't enough, so we decided to go home.
A winding sound from my fishing pole was unleashed. At first, I thought the noise came from my brother because he was winding on the fishing line. But when I looked over my shoulder. At the rod, I saw no one manning the pole, 'fish on,' I shouted.
I ran to the fishing rod and began to reel in the fish. He was strong, but I was stronger. The fish tried to guide me in one direction, but I would pull on the rod and guide him in the other direction. He was a fighter, but I was hungrier. Not hungry for sustenance, but in the power of not wanting to fail. I wanted to win this battle. Back and forth we went. He would take a line from me, but I would reel it back in. He'd take some, but I would take more. My brothers' were so excited. They were thrilled that at least one of us was lucky to catch a fish tonight.
My oldest brother stood to the side of me with a net. He was prepared to capture him as I reeled in what was dangling, some 16 feet below, between the wood-planked floor to the sea surface below.
The powerhouse of a fish flailed in the air, almost wiggling himself loose. I heaved back on the pole and lurched the fish back towards me. I must have gotten my feet tangled up because I tripped myself and fell backward, merging my shinbone with the concrete railing. The kick was so mighty that the solid stone indented into my leg. I was in pain."
"Wow, Daddy, what did you do," he asked. I had him hook, line, and sinker.
"Nothing. My brothers laughed at my accident, and we took my fish home and ate him."
"Boy, dad, that's some scar."
"Yes, it is. And I can't believe I was only 10 years older than you are now when it happened. And it feels like only yesterday. Life is going fast."
"Let's go fishing!"
"After the doctor, and no more scars."
834 words
Some kind of voguing going on here.
© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission. Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print.
