Parenting and Recovery

Of all the things I can write about, the only ones I know to be exact are my experiences.  When I was 12, my father bought me a Takamine guitar that had fallen off a shelf in an Atlanta guitar store. To this day, when the moon is just right and the mood hits, I love to sing and play my favorites like “the Boxer” and “Feelin’ Groovy.”  Simon and Garfunkel’s music reminds me of days long gone. Now my son pulls out that old ’78 model six string, tunes it, and plays whatever comes to his artistic hands. When he was 12 and my daughter was 8, I would  drag them to meeting after meeting trying to find myself. Thankfully, I know who and what I am today.  They do, too. This morning I gave him a hug, watched him drive off to the first day of his senior year, and for a proud moment, I felt sad. I remember him getting off the bus as a kindergartner. But I know before long he will enter the harsh, cruel world of adulthood.  After I dropped his sister and her friend off at middle school, I came home to emptiness and silence. I hope I’ve raised them to live in the world but not of it. After school,  he returned and late in the evening, I listened to him play several songs and thought how closely related our musical tastes are. One of the true blessings I’ve found is to stop and enjoy these moments that are rare gifts from the Maker. I wouldn’t take anything for how my world just keeps on spinning. Some days I fall off the axis, but life, as I know it, is much different and much better. Loneliness gives way to the laughter of kids when they return. I recognize time is fleeting, and one day I’ll look back and ask myself, ” where did the music go?”  Some of us have never heard silence, but for me it can be deafening….good day!…b

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