Morning Missed

As I sit here this foggy October morning, missing my children, I wonder what it is that makes me miss them. To say that it's my love for them is the simple answer, but what is it that makes me want them to be right here, right now? With the passage of time--and many hours to myself--I have come to wonder about this over and over. To say that I've come to a conclusion assumes that I am done wondering about it, so rather than conclude I shall just say that I have come to an answer that suits me for the moment.

Parenting is a many-staged role. You start out as THE caretaker of every facet of your baby's life and then gradually phase into a teacher, an encourager, a coach, a back-up, and then if you've done it right, a friend. Parenting is the most difficult role in the world because you take that little lump of love from the point of being completely helpless to the point where they should absolutely not need you at all. At least not more than they need other healthy relationships. This is a very difficult thing to do. And as the dad in a divorce situation my time with my kids was segmented, regulated, and condensed, at best. I either had all three of them or none of them. There was very little one on one time with any of them so the phases of parenting snuck up on me and ran over my abilities at times. Now, I am not excusing myself, rather I am stating it as something that is true--whatever the reason.

So, all this to say, I miss my kids because they are my friends. I want to know what each one of them dreamed, feared, laughed at, thought about, ran away from, inched toward, remembered, or forgot. I want to hear that they tried something new or heard an old song that jogged a memory loose. And then I want to tell them about my insides and how much fun it is just to know them. I want to do nothing together and enjoy it...like only friends can.

The fog is clearing.