We Call it T.O. Now

The ride to my sons practice was saturated with memories of past sunsets and pictures laying heavy in my mind’s eye. I felt a part of the same nation of parents that came before me. Parents that have sacrificed to give their children more then came before them.  

A mind full of flat platitudes about parenting and but nothing prepares you for this shit. Parenting is hard. 

I live near the Chumash Indian reserve just, near thousand Oaks blvd.  It’s a tree line drive under a canopy of oak giants, some of these wrinkled beauties are a hundred years old and hold the spirits of the past. The trees know the history of the land. The oaks where here before the people before me. There is a small hill on my drive that appears ancient in the city sunset. When I look at the silhouette the image takes me to my ancient life in my mind, but I’m bound by my time in history now, and reminded by the endless street corners of mini-malls and fast -food restaurants.  

I was driving my son to practice one night, and I wanted some conversation with him, but Elon was silent. I wanted to rejoice in my wisdom and experience as a father. I wanted to tell him everything I knew, but within an instance the day became night and Elon became a man and I did not see it coming.  

I needed a distraction from my insecurities and my thoughts.  

I said, ‘Ellon… look how beautiful it is at this time of day.”  

He didn’t say anything, but there was only one view out of the car window. I knew he was looking. Conversation with my oldest son was difficult.  He seems to have come to a life decision on small talk. I’m more sensitive then, Elon. Elon is tough. Elon wants to be a man.  

Elion has committed himself to the remainder of the ride without chatting, leaving me in my mind, by-myself. Insecure.  

I was desperate with anxiety and fear, that my son would leave me when these last teenage years are done. I pulled to the drop off area and asked if I could walk with him to the practice field. He smiled at me from within the shell of his hoodie. His smile was a kind and gentle grin, like he felt sorry for me. I can see his babyface in the dark shadow in the oval of his hood and it was the same new face as when he was born. I could see my own face. 

Elon got out of the car and politely shut the door.  I pumped the gas an made an illegal U turn and slightly fish-tailed my truck. I wasn’t mad, but I was heading on collision with a sad pity- party and several beers while I waited to pick up.   

The emptiness was real. 

“I really turned the corner on that emotional shit,” I thought. 

The car window was open, and the night air was warm. I turned up the music loud. I drove back in the dark.