An Absurd Post ...or...Preempting Happiness

I live 860 miles away from my parents. It’s about a 14-hour drive, although Dad made it in about 12 hours once. With one young child, it takes around 16 hours. I have no idea how long it will take now that we have a very new second child.

Sometimes when we show up on my parents porch and my parents are hugging us and telling us how glad they are to see us, Mom will also mention in those first few moments how sad she is that we will be leaving in a few days or weeks. And I think, why bring that up now? This is the time to be happy because our togetherness is just beginning. It is all in front of us; it is a wealth of moments ready for the spending.

But I don’t blame her, because really I am exactly the same way. If something wonderful is happening, my first thought is just how finite the wonderfulness is. It will be over soon. Sometimes, if things are going really, really well, I think about some potential tragedy that is coming. I don’t think you can blame me, either, because it happens that way all too often. Once, my wife and I were having a spectacular weekend. I remember telling her how rich I felt even though we did not have but a few dollars in the bank—we have a big back yard in a beautiful town, the car was running well, the weather was perfect, the garage was clean, I had just installed a new mailbox with a flower box. On Monday we received a property tax bill in the mail; it was so far out of our ability to pay that I felt deep despair. It occurred to me that the tax had been mailed to us the previous week. I imagined some lackey in a fluorescent-lit office stuffing the beige envelope with the tax, affixing the address label, printing the postage, putting the envelope in the mail bin, and the mailmen picking up the mail, sorting it, and delivering it to us all while I reveled in blissful ignorance. I should have known something was coming, right?

Of course, that was before I understood what escrow was, but I was steeped in panic and dread for a full four days. (Don’t bother rolling your eyes at me…I know how pathetic and perverse that is, and I’m not defending it. I’m only attempting to explain how it is.)

It doesn't help that I see everything as very temporary. When I was remodeling my kitchen, I could almost hear the cabinets and floor decaying--it was like time-elapsed rotting. After all, I was ripping out someone else's toil; how long would it be before my hard work was undone? Not long. So, even with happiness and sadness these days, I have a this-too-will-pass mentality, which is about the exact opposite of my wife. Every day, every moment seems to be either the absolute best or the absolute worst, and I like that about her. She's interesting.

I kissed my little boy tonight. He’s 25 days old. His cheek is cool, soft, and abundant. He doesn’t like being kissed and he protests every time I do it. I do it once a day because I love it, but no more because he would prefer I did not do it at all. Today I selfishly kissed him twice, though, because I was thinking ahead to that day when he will finally tell me that he doesn’t want to be kissed goodnight anymore. And I will say, “Well, let me kiss you one more time, and then I will hardly ever do it again.” I will not be able to enjoy that kiss, though; I will probably smile and ruffle his hair and then go to my room and cry. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry, and I think, why bring that up now? This is the time to be happy because everything is just beginning.