A week ago, my sons left for college. One is a sophomore and the other is a freshman. We have four children, so my daughters are still at home. The differences between the boys and girls are noteworthy. Raising boys and raising girls are simply two different experiences. Boys require less attention, but they can be more destructive. Girls talk more, but they cause less wear and tear. When the boys were in high school, my wife sometimes complained that their rooms were a mess, they grunted a lot, and, in general, they smelled. I used to reply, “They’re teenage boys.” On the other hand, the girls change their clothes for every event, whether it’s a family dinner out or time with friends at home. Their rooms are color coordinated and everything is cute or “the cutest.” I have sometimes said to my wife, “Do they need one in every color?” She has reminded me, “They’re girls.”
When they were younger, I used to make annual trips with the boys to visit family in Chicago. Their child-size backpacks were filled with games for the plane ride. On one trip, I remember they were small enough to get out of their seats to take turns and sit on my lap and play games. Their favorite was called the Opposite Game. Sitting on my knees facing me, I would ask what the opposite was of a familiar word. For example, I’d say “up” and my son would say “down”. If he got it right we moved to a more challenging word. If he got it wrong, I’d open my knees and let him drop a few inches. They squealed with laughter and we played it until we ran out of words.
The boys grew up to be taller and stronger than me. We moved from laptop games to basketball and touch football. It wasn’t long before I was no match and they easily outscored and outran me. I took great pride in their academic and athletic achievements. One of my sons had the uncanny ability to take exams he didn’t know were scheduled and still earn an “A”. My other son played football with such enthusiasm he was sometimes told not to hurt his own teammates. Eventually, we moved to the family room where we spent time as an entire family and held many conversations about subjects they needed to understand in the real world.
I’ve often said that I won’t mind being an empty-nester. I think it’s still true. My wife and I love our time, together, and as our children grow more independent she and I grow closer. But, it’s these transitions that cause the past to rush forward in a blur of time that it truly is. Just this past week, I was driving down the street and saw a young father walking with his young son who was just a few steps ahead of him skipping along the way. It was surreal. I couldn’t keep the tears from coming. That father with his son was every parent who ever raised a child and experienced the blur of time that turns a small child into an adult.
Today, I’m grateful that time has also turned my sons into my friends. There is nothing like the phone that rings or the text that beeps on my cell phone to tell me that one of them is calling. Correction: one of them still needs me. When I hang up, I turn around to see my daughters are still there. It reminds me of Proverbs (17:6), which teaches us, “Grandchildren are the crown of their elders, and the glory of children is their parents.”
From my family to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
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