As the clock ticks through to the early hours, and I’m still sitting here, coughing, sniffing, and attempting to fight a pretty bad head cold, I’m thinking I should get back on track with writing about life - about the things I’ve been up to.
I don’t really lead a life though - it just sort of happens to me. I stumble along, dodging the slings and arrows, doing my best to make sure we’re all still on our feet, heading in the same direction. It usually means we’re not actually going anywhere, but that doesn’t matter as long as everybody is happy.
Everybody except me.
I wonder if it’s a pre-condition of all families that somebody always gets the short straw? That it’s somebody’s job to get the short straw, to bring up the rear, to slog their guts out and never see any direct results of their efforts?
The results are there of course - in the shape of three little girls who go to school each day with hair neatly brushed and tied back, dressed in clean uniforms, wearing polished shoes. The girls can all rollerskate, ride bikes, two wheeled scooters, and many other things that all go on an imaginary (but important) list of achievements that children should probably be able to do. None of these things happened by accident. They all happened at the expense of us spending time which might have been our own devoted to holding hands, picking up, or freezing our ass off on some park bench.
I’m reminded of the scene in the movie where Captain Hook tells Maggie “before you were born your parents were happy” - and of course every parent who watches the movie knows it’s true. The corollary is of course that the children are often our happy thoughts too - and there’s more truth in Mr Darlings taking out his dreams to admire them than many will admit.
If you’ve never read Peter Pan, perhaps a short excerpt might enlighten;
Mrs. Darling: There are many different kinds of bravery. There’s the bravery of thinking of others before one’s self. Now, your father has never brandished a sword nor fired a pistol, thank heavens. But he has made many sacrifices for his family, and put away many dreams.
Michael: Where did he put them?
Mrs. Darling: He put them in a drawer. And sometimes, late at night, we take them out and admire them. But it gets harder and harder to close the drawer… He does. And that is why he is brave.