He's off on a great adventure.
Change is in the wind for the Gunnels clan. And with it comes a baffling mixture of pride and joy, sadness and uncertainty.
My beloved
daughter is now married and embarked on a life with the man she has known and
loved since college. She is happy, harried and hopeful. All the things a new
bride should be. Her parents are comforted, conflicted and confident. Nothing
unusual about that, either.
And now my
youngest, my steady and stalwart son, tells us he is moving to Seattle. He and
his girlfriend, who his mother and I adore and endorse, will be gone by
Thanksgiving – her to a great new job and he on the great adventure he has dreamed
about since graduating from college.
His job, at
which he has excelled in an unexpected but immensely satisfying manner, will
follow him to the Pacific Northwest. They are ecstatic and – although they are
loathe to admit it – a bit intimidated by the prospect of leaving friends and
family behind them. But that’s all part of the adventure, right?
His mother is
handling this shift in the fabric of the cosmos better than his father. She’s
already planning trips to visit him, and her delighted anticipation is rather
annoying. I am incredibly proud of him – I always have been, even when he
teetered on the brink of disaster – and I know the two of them will thrive in
their new life.
But as the
winds of change buffet the tiny sailboat of my life, I admit it all makes me a
little seasick. Marice and I have been luckier than many at having our grown
children close at hand since they moved out of the house. Now, that’s about to
change, and I’m struggling to feel OK about it.
I was sitting on my patio yesterday, feeling grumpy and heartsick, when what should pop up on Pandora but "Father and Son" by Cat Stevens (he’ll never be Yusuf to me). A message from the universe? Mere coincidence?
The father
says:
It's not time
to make a change.
Just relax,
take it easy.
You're still
young, that's your fault.
There's so much
you have to know.
Find a girl,
settle down
If you want you
can marry.
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.
The son
replies:
All the times
that I cried
Keeping all the
things I knew inside.
It's hard, but
it's harder to ignore it.
If they were
right, I'd agree, but it's them they know not me.
Now there's a
way, and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.
Yusuf / Cat Stevens - Father & Son - Bing video
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