At this year's VPR's annual Commentators Brunch event for our Broadcasters Club members, VPR commentators gave brief readings on the common theme, "Lost And Found". This prompted some to reflect on surprising discoveries and others to consider missed opportunities and times past.
In most action movies there's a scene where a guy seems to disappear into thin air. Invariably, a passing bus or a subway obscures him from view for just a second, and then, as if by magic, he's gone. Both of my sons perfected this trick at an early age and, to our great chagrin, would often disappear when we least expected it. How far can a closely watched toddler go in a few seconds, you may ask. In our experience, about a block and a half.
One time in France, our youngest, who was playing near a fountain under our loving gaze, suddenly vanished. His flash getaway was so successful that when I caught up to him, several anxious breathless moments later, I was nearly lynched by a small mob of French women who accused me of being crazy, criminally negligent, parentally inept, and barely human. (In France, people often consider it their civic duty to share their opinions with total strangers.)
Another time, our spritely three-year-old escaped the family for nearly an hour at a crowded amusement park. Fortunately, my wife and I weren't there because we would have had a nervous breakdown. My wife's mother and sister were momentarily ashamed of their bad babysitting, but only until a nice stranger returned our son unhurt, and licking an ice cream. Then my in-laws simply blamed each other and got over it very quickly.
Well, those days are long gone. Now our sons have biceps, girlfriends, and even a little facial hair. They don't show us their booboos, or homework, or stickers anymore. We don’t read them stories or run next to their bikes anymore either.
But it's nice to find your children grown up, with their own ideas, jokes, and music, and I’ll be happy to see our sons take their place in the world someday soon. It reminds me of Khalil Gibran's saying that our children are with us but don't belong to us, that they come through us, but are not our own.
So in the end, we never did lose our kids, but we did lose our omnipotent, omniscient, godlike status, just as all parents do when their kids get bigger.
Of course, I understand why this happens, but I still feel… at a loss.
