Continuing the theme of not knowing / unknowing from yesterday . . .
My favorite part of late July has been a shift that I’ve noticed in my son, who is just starting out his journey as a teenager.
Lately, he’s been asking me lots of questions. An easy 300% more than usual and none of them having to do with screen time or his next meal.
As we weave up the switchbacks on our way from Lloyd Road to the Highlawn Pavillion on our way to West Orange . . .
How do you know your way around all these secret backroads? How did you learn about them?
As we ease onto and off 280 West or East . . .
“How did these roads get these names, and why are so many of the names numbers?
As we pass an ice pack back and forth on the couch, from my foot (running) to his leg (soccer), and he clicks the TV from the Democratic debates to WWE Smackdown . . .
Why are these the people who are running for President? Is this real? Do you think that hurts?
As we wait for yesterday’s pizza to heat up in the oven . . .
Why is milk a sponsor of the Olympics?
Though I can’t answer most of these questions, I love them so much. They wake me up to the life around me, show me a young man starting to crawl out of himself and into the world, and remind me that we often know each other best when we wrap our arms around what we don’t know, solvable or not, sayable or not. We have no clue. And that’s just fine.
Just make a left, there, at that fence near the pine . . .