Things get busy with kids
and work and everything tumbling all together in the time warp that the speed
of life seems to take. I read a quote
the other day somewhere that said, “The days are long but the years are
short.” That seems ever more true with
each passing year. But in that jumble of
what seem to be unforgettable moments I often fail to reflect back and piece
together the meaningful points but sometimes they jump out of the past and
surprise me, which is what happened the other day when I was talking with
Avery. And sometimes there are days,
like today, Father’s Day, that despite being commercialized and driven by
consumerism, are another opportunity to pause and appreciate people, like my
Dad, who has contributed so much to who I am today.
The deja-vu memory that
jumped up in my face happened the other day when Avery and I were talking about
Italy. In her elementary school the
entire school studies a different country each month as part of their
International Curriculum. She loves this
part of school and has learned about 18 different countries/regions since she
has been there the past 2 years. Her
favorite country so far as been Italy and she got really engrossed in studying it
and still carefully pours over the map.
Once she met someone who had lived in Italy for a long time and peppered
the woman with so many questions I was almost embarrassed! She dreams of going there some day and when
she grows up she wants to become a photojournalist and a writer and travel the
world telling stories with pictures and words.
So it is particularly
painful for her that Andrew and I are taking our big (belated) 10 Year
Anniversary trip to Italy this fall. She
was having a tough month because of her broken leg and being relegated to
sitting around a lot and at this particular moment she was complaining about
her life and feeling sorry for herself about all of these things. She was also complaining about how she
doesn’t like learning Spanish in school when she really wants to learn Italian. Without thinking I said, “well, what if you
could learn Italian, would you really do it?” and she said, “Yes, but it’s a
waste of time if I never get to go there!”
And I said (without thinking it through first), “Well, if you become
fluent in Italian I will take you to Italy.”
And she said, “Really? You would
do that?” I realized at that moment that
even though all of the realities will probably never allow it to happen (time,
money, effort, etc.) that yes, if she reaches for her dream and actually becomes
fluent in a second language, then I would do that, in a heartbeat.
And then I had a flashback
to my own childhood. One of those really clear memories that you can see like
it had just happened. I remember being out on the sidewalk in front of our house. I had a little microscope and I was looking
at bugs and grass and leaves while my Dad mowed the lawn, I was probably around
10 or 11. As he was cleaning off the
sidewalk I told him about what I had seen and how I wanted to be scientist
someday and go to a really good college so I could learn everything about microbiology. He asked what college I wanted to go to and I
said Harvard, but that I didn’t think that was possible; too hard and too
expensive. And then he stopped and looked
me in the eye and told me very seriously, “You can go to any college you want
to go to, you can be anything you want to be, and I will do everything I can to
help you succeed.” I said, “really?” And
he said, “yes, I will sell the farm to send you to college if I have to!” And that was serious to me, and I remember
thinking, “wow, he would do that? He
truly believes I can do it!” I didn’t
have an idea at that time what it is like to be a parent, how desperately you
want the best for your kids, how much you want them to succeed. And now I know. My Dad could have squashed my dream with
reality: what were the chances a Montana girl would end up at an Ivy League
school? What are the chances there would
be a way to pay for that expensive education?
But instead he let me come to that crucial point where a dream that
floats around in your brain gets the corner nailed down. And each step forward nails down another
section until what was a dream becomes a real thing. That was a pivotal moment in my childhood and
I am thankful for it.
My Dad is very pragmatic but
he allowed me to dream and grow and supported me along the way with words of
wisdom and advice (and he still does). So
I am trying to channel him more when I talk to Avery, because sometimes I am
too practical with her and give her too much reality. I want her to dream. I want her to imagine all the things she
could be and the places she could go. I
helped her nail a corner down that day and we’ll see if she can keep up the
work to make her dream a reality. I’ll sell
the farm to help her get there if I need to.
Thank you, Dad, for being
who you are and for shaping my life in such a positive way.
