A life in the day: Arrival Revival

Time is funny. Not ha-ha funny so much as extraordinarily funny. As I peered toward the backseat, memories amalgamated with forethought. The GPS had been reset to our predetermined destination as opposed to a destination of the past. My mind wandered and wondered if it wasn’t some kind of sign of what was to come. Curiously my mind continued scanning the timeline of my life, in relation to Kevin’s life.

It leaped the introduction of Kiley to my wife and me and fast forwarded from there. It seemed like only yesterday my son Kevin was pacing the floor awaiting some unknown type of big news from his special someone.As the backseat trio eyes made contact with me, I buffered my thoughts saying “arrival time is 20 minutes.”

To be sure, it was a time he worried the news would be she was breaking up with him. To be sure it was Kiley’s influence that had the clout of getting him sober. As parents, it is a widely held conviction; we covet a better life for our children than we experience. The setback being, along the way survival matters intervene. There are times in each family when it is wise to take a step back to reexamination our providence; that our children benefit from our mistakes. Even though the parent is guaranteed to take the proverbial hit from their offspring’s critique, it’s widely held each generation will continue to do so.

That’s just the way it goes. Altruism with respect to raising children tends to involve some degree of self-sacrifice by its very definition. The common sense of this philosophy is based upon a simple premise. Teach your children not to make the same mistakes made by yourself as children in the past. As children, we judge our parents by not making the same presumed mistakes they made raising you. That alone obliges a lifetime connection of teaching and learning by both parent and child... as both parent and child; and that is extraordinarily funny.

The times in which we live require a proficiency in finance, psychology and philosophy. If one therefore, makes the choice of becoming a parent, I would be inclined to side with adding the imperative of becoming an adept storyteller. The point of telling a story necessitates driving home a point. The moral of the tale is the wisdom contained within the anecdote. The sooner they learned they’re responsible for their own actions, the better off their life will be.

Of course, he couldn’t be more wrong. As the moral of the story goes, “I been down here before and I know the way out.” This particular instance I decided to ask the additional question, is it possible Kiley is pregnant? His look was priceless, upon the timely question and the echo of the outer door’s reverberation. This reverberation sounds like the turning of the table. Upon our arrival to our predetermined destination, I recall the closing sound of the car doors hauntingly similar to the reverberation I recall of my recent reminiscence.

Knock…Knock…Knock.