winkgirl4's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Parental Pedestals PedestalsAs I sit here, I remember the best memories I have of my mother and father. I remember the warm California sun shining down on me as I watched my father work on a car in our driveway. I remember how he sat me up on the side of the car so that I could watch more carefully while my brother and sisters ran around the car playing tag. Mostly, I remember staring down into that automotive abyss and veiwing my father with such an incredible sense of awe at how knowingly he worked his way through the coils and wires and nuts and bolts with this long handled sockets and clackety wrenches. My attention was so taken that I didn't notice the collision that would be my brother tagging my sister, both of them tagging me and, finally, my forehead tagging the oil pan resulting in the small moon-shaped scar that graces my forehead to this day. I remember my father scooping me up and taking me to the hospital and then to the ice cream parlor, praising the fact that I didn't cry once. I can remember looking out of the big bay window as my mother begged me to sit still on the stool as she scetched my portrait onto the large piece of canvas. I remember watching my sisters and brother play, through that big bay window, and wishing I were down there, too. I'd steal a glance at how she studied my features and how this line was added and that line was erased. Above it all, I remember looking at that final picture and then at myself in the mirror and wondering how she did it- spending hours admiring how my mother created me in charcoal. These certainly were not the only good memories I have of my parents. I know if I spent enough time, I could probably chronicle an entire book full of them. Sadly, though, most of those memories occured before they fell from the pedestal on which I, like all other children, place their parents. Even more sad is the fact that how and when they fell is far more memorable than the best of all the memories I am able to recollect. At the same time, I see how my son watches me when we do things together. We'll build robots with one of his many lego, bionicle, or erector sets and he'll watch what I do and laud my creations as the best robots ever. He'll tell me that I make the best waffles in the world and that I'm the best cub scout leader he's ever seen. I'll brush my daughter's hair and she'll say hug me and whisper, "You're the prettiest mommy, ever." Best of all, I can count on both of them to initiate this unsolicited conversation: "Mommy." "Yes?" " I love you." (My heart melts every time.) "I love you, too, pumpkin." Yes, I refer to my children with gushy little pet names like "baby" and "pumpkin." But, that's my point, really . I can use those terms because in their eyes I haven't fallen from my pedestal, yet. In their eyes, they still see me as the ultimate problem solver and unconquerable. I can see that my children still look at me with the awe I once had for my own parents- an awe that not all children lose but certainly has to come into perspective at some time or another. And I found myself wondering this morning, how I will fall. The foundation had been lain and I've done everything that I can to keep my fall from resembling my parent's, but it won't keep it from happening. A day will come when my children will see me as human and, this morning, I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that. I suppose the best I can do is make sure that they have just as many good memories of me after my as before. 2:16 p.m. - 2003-03-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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