Sunday, April 23, 2017

Adding Each Thread

      My apologies for opening with a mind-blower but, I fear being wrong about love.
It is not a matter of misjudging the entire element (love) and its power. I trust it and recall frequently the occasions when my French-speaking grandmother, in halting English, would gather our attention to assert word with the reminder that it is above all things and that it will be an answer, a solution and your bedrock as well.
     With my grandmother as a reference the nuances or calibrations of love's expression dog me and leave doubts. There are my insistent doubts about my over-protective impulses. Even though my son, signalled to me, with a head-long dive off the sofa when he was barely able to hold himself in a seated position, that there would be a trip to the emergency room to set a broken bone in my future. Despite that, I still let a vigilant, perhaps paranoid, bark slip whenever he is straying into probably minor risks. The vigilance does not express that love as well as other ways available, at least not in the immediate term.  Beyond that there are, again, the nuances of the long-term consequences of that preemptive attention. It is probably better to let him get into trouble and learn his lessons the hard way - as long as they aren't hard lessons.
     Apart from the vigilance, I have come to realize not to presume adequacy in expressing myself to my son. There may be self-imposed limits that are hard-wired into me without my recognition. Conscious of the largesse that has come his way as the only child, grandchild, and nephew, I am wary of gifts and want to ensure that he truly appreciates what he receives as an expression of a friend's or relative's fondness for him and the value they give to the time they spend with him. Yesterday, a dear, older friend whom Gabriel and I regularly lunch with on Saturdays gave a smallish package in a large yellow envelope and was advised that it was something for him to share with his parents rather than open immediately.  On the way home, I thought it was best to modify Gabriel's expectations so I told him that the gift was our friend's way of expressing his affection and his appreciation for the time we spent together. When we arrived home, Gabriel asked if he could remove the package from my bag and open it.  Rather than being the keepsake or heirloom that I feared might turn Gabriel off or need some time to earn its value in his eyes, I turned out to be a package of four large chocolate chip cookies. Right in G's wheelhouse.
   Despite my amusement and relief that the gift was something tangible for a five-year-old, I am remain conscious of the value of our time together and prefer to give him that and share a variety of experiences with him that broaden the connections between us. One aspect of my fear about being wrong about love is the assumption that one connection or association would be enough for us. Whether it is the bedtime reading, the station-to-station sprints that are a part of our journeys, the drowsy chats about music as consciousness gives way (finally) to sleep, the work we do together or more, I still wonder what the next thing will be to connect us and create another link in the bond between us. I believe that relying on only one or a handful or the tried and true amongst those connections makes too much of an assumption about the adequacy of a connection. I do not want to presume one of those connections is a high tensile connection and learn much, much later that it was gossamer thin and inadequate for the task of preparing Gabriel for the rest of his life and assuring him that I have his back.
     The sheer abandon with which he delivers hugs and kisses and "I love you's" to those around him, me included, is reassuring but I do not want to settle for the possibility of creating a single tether between us, when a web can connect us and reassure me of a link to him as time passes and the bonds of certain books, for instance, are outgrown. The thing I am conscious of as he grows is the need to express my love of him and my value of him in a manner that grows and evolves as he matures and finds new ways to express his desires, his feelings and himself in a range of ways that are as articulate and varied as he needs.