Because I have travelled, I can see other universes in the eyes of strangers. – Kent Nerburn
I met my unemployed, twenty-something son for lunch today. I didn’t know what to expect but as we got our hoagies, it occurred to me to say a simple prayer. “Help me just be a dad and enjoy this time with him. Help me avoid preaching.” Which is what I always wanted from my own dad, but of course, it’s pretty easy to slip into that familiar stuff with my own kids.
After catching up on all the news, he told me he’s going to Alaska this summer to work on a fishing boat, and then he wants to travel. Real travel, not tourism, the kind where you stay long enough and become part of the fabric. And it occurred to me that I’ve never travelled like that when I was young, that I got a job right after college, got married two years later, and started having kids two years after that. And I found myself thinking about him “Good for you, go for it” and about me “Shit, I’ve missed out.”
I told him about the chapter on travel in Kent Nerburn’s book Letters to My Son and tonight I reread it myself. And I stilI feel that I’ve missed out. I can’t easily “see other universes in the eyes of strangers.” And I may never be able to experience the kind of vagabond travel that a twenty-something young man can do. (My wife has pointed out that this kind of travel, frequently solo, is not easy for young women to do safely. Sad but true.)
But what’s interesting to me now, as I think about this lunch today, is how my eyes were opened to something about me that I hadn’t realized. I had approached the lunch thinking I had to be an advice giver. But I didn’t, thankfully, and the result was that I learned something about me. Which, in a funny way, makes me feel closer to my son.
Was this a good outcome? It seems like it. Was this a result of my prayer? I never really know for sure.