Time Marches On · 7 July 2013
Time marches on. Regardless of whether we want it to or not.
Thing 1, our oldest son, is having another birthday tomorrow. (Happy birthday!) He lives far away these days and is living his own life. It makes me long for the days when he was younger. It makes me nostalgic.
One of my earliest memories of Thing 1 was when he and him mom (not yet The Mindboggling Mrs. Miyoshi) came to my apartment with a birthday cake. We had just met about a month before and yet he beamed up at me with a huge smile. “Happy birthday!” I will remember that toothy grin looking up at me forever.
I also remember Thing 1 and his penchant for cowboy movies. His favorites were Lonesome Dove and Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. We watched those movies over and over and over again. Then we would watch them over and over some more. Butch Cassidy was where he first learned a bit of Spanish. “Fo fo fo” was what he heard when they said, “Por favor,” but he knew exactly what fuego meant and recited it at the end of the movie when the Mexican army is firing on the two banditos. Fuego!
Thing 1 does not have his cowboy boots or cowboy hat anymore, but he always had them as a kid. He seemed to always be ready for a trail drive or to join a posse. I was too. As long as we were just watching.
Kids cannot stay little forever and as Thing 1 got older, I was glad I could be around for many of his milestones.
He had elementary school plays and middle school concerts. There were years and years of soccer games. Sitting in the cold watching him play was not always fun, but I enjoyed watching him play. When he got to high school, I was glad I got to see a few of his football games. I was fortunate to be there when he scored a touchdown. I was proud when he got his diploma. I hope to be around for many more of his important milestones.
Reminiscing about our oldest son on the eve of his birthday makes me long for the days of youth and innocence. It makes me wish for the days of yore. It makes me nostalgic.
Unfortunately, time is relentless. And whether we want it to do so or not, time marches on.
© 2013 Michael T. Miyoshi
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