Vacuosity

The way of the father

Sometimes I worry that I'm living my father's life.

He stayed for years in a dead relationship out of responsibility and obligation. He and his family got by, but barely sometimes. We lived in an old house that was constantly undergoing some sort of renovation. My father has a streak of artist in him, though it was never developed and it never matured. Sometimes I see so much of him in myself.

That's not how our life is now. I chose to stay married only after I had fully decided to leave, aware that I could still fulfill my role as father. Overall, we are doing pretty well financially, even though there is the occasional lean week. Jordan and Jaimeson are well-provided for, and want for little. Our new house, though not beautiful yet, has remarkable potential. Still, I wonder whether that potential was there in the old house on Craven Road and I was just too young to see it. I believe that my abilities and a designer and writer have grown to a point where I can be satisfied in the degree of their success. (Not that I can stop working on them, but it's something to be proud of.)

From a purely objective standpoint, I think one would say that our lives are quite different. But when I think about him having a child at almost the exact age I did, his similar struggle for a better life, his relinquishing dreams for responsibility, I wonder if it really is that different from back then. I wonder about where I'll be at his age. Is it an inevitable life course?

posted by David @ 12:13 p.m.