Sonship

I asked my nearly 13 year old if he wanted to go bush with me for a night.

An immediate yes, followed by would we be in a tent? And yes. My fears of rejection assuaged - of course he want to be in bush with his father, his hero. Dare I say that? Yes, every teen boy wants his father to be his hero - he admires him even as he might at times hate how this man gets in his face, gets the wrong end of the stick - makes judgements that were not fair. See, I’ve been through all that - have learnt how to hurt and then how to see that hurt, apologise and remedy it as soon as possible.

Deeply entrenched pain between a father and son can be avoided perhaps if the father can be aware - like the other day when I interfered with his sister and his debate over who had the front seat in the car - put my foot in it by using my big person power to make a call, get involved where none was asked for, none needed - saw immediately the long, quiet look out the window - then the tears as I checked in - Are you angry at me? Yes, that’s mostly it. I’m sorry, please forgive me, I love you, thank you.

And on we go further on and further in - the mountains are calling to this father and son upon a time that has never been before and never will be repeated again.