Armchair Pundits

On Sunbeams & Autos

There are moments when the all the mundanities of one's life are vanquished by the punctuated arrival of a brief, but truly sublime experience; the transcendence of which, you promise yourself you will always remember, hoping that it's true, yet somehow knowing in the end you are really deluding yourself.

Such moments are fated to the degradation of our memories, being supplanted by the enormity of information that somehow is given hap-hazard priority. If not careful, the end really won't resemble the sage-like wisdom in Sinatra's crooning--"Some day, when I'm awfully low, When the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you... And the way you look tonight."

Thus, it becomes necessary for the sentimental to preserve such moments, with video, audio, or in this particular instance, by writing it down. This is a bitter sweet exercise for me, for I'm at once enraptured in the glory of this morning's moment, only to be wrenched with the veracity of my aforementioned self-deception. That is, I have failed to preserve the bewitchment of such erstwhile moments.

So why all the languishing words? As I put on my shoes preparing to leave the house for an appointment, my 17-month old daughter was toddling around chasing the sunbeam streaming through the curtain. I watched with awe as she discovered the light, trying to catch it. Suddenly, without warning, she toddled up to me, grabbed my face and while smiling widely, exclaimed "love you dada." Then without prompt, she planted a big slobberingly wonderful kiss on my cheek.

Utterly glorious. Thank you God.

As is the cruel disposition of time, I was forced to peel myself away, leaving the house for work.
I entered the heap of rust, that is my car. While ugly, the car has been a faithful servant to me over the years. Old Betsy, as we affectionately call it, lost her luster long ago and recently I've been overtaken with the desire for something newer, different, more shiny. The very fact, that Betsy is on her last leg, serves as a daily object lesson for me. I've been humbled by it. Sure I could drive something nicer, more sleek, but driving it (as it is) reflects the values that I want my children to adopt. Namely, to not be saddled with worldly possesions--something, daddy struggles with from time to time.

In the moments I feel ashamed of my ride, I am reminded that my children, think Old Betsy is the greatest thing out there. In fact they beg me to ride in it. And so, I pulled the old bucket out into the street, turned back to the house and to the waving hands of my greatest eartly treasures, waved back, and made my way into traffic.

Parenting is hard work, but the benefits are incalcuable.

posted by Grisby @ 2:51 PM