Family
My boys see each other very rarely, since one lives at the other end of the earth.
Actually, he lives in California, but it might as well be Mars for as often as we see him.
In the times everyone is home, it's heartwarming to see our two sons together, huddled on the couch with so little space between them. I think our younger son wants as much face time as possible with his big brother. I had been so worried that their huge age difference would be a detriment. As it turns out almost six years separates them and its been an advantage in many ways. They have each found identities that suit them, without competition. At least that's my read, without having been a child development specialist.
But in the time our older son was home very recently, they did a lot together, even though our younger son could have easily been with friends.
The part that had me worried, though, was what I couldn't remember. Seeing them together I tried to recall day to day when they were small. The times when they went tearing through the house, playing ball or pretending they were World Federation Wrestlers, have gone by in a blur. I can remember isolated incidents, prompted by photographs or, back then, videotape.
But what about every day?
Granted, I've worked many bizarre shifts, having signed on for a career in tv news. When I was the Executive Producer for the early dayparts, I was going to bed before the boys. But still, shouldn't I be able to remember what it was like on a daily basis?
Maybe that's the way a mom keeps her sanity, only remembering the highlights, the snapshots we carry around in our memories, of the baseball banquet, the
fifth grade play, the Halloween parade.
I don't know if it's survival or just the way life works. But as those boys sat on the couch, watching the 93rd consecutive sporting event, I made it a point to remember the moment.
I need to remember how lucky I was that my husband and I could give them each other. I hope I can keep the sights and sounds of their bond preserved in my head.
