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A reverie along memory lane when, this lviii sea sunned
row wing man (stills the paddles in oarlocks and serenely
quizzically, lackadaisically, and harmoniously drifts) along
slipstream of time. Awash on his figurative manual navigated
opportunistic prideful quintessential schooner reflects, regales,
and revisits ebbing lapsed instances (fast receding into past time,
when psychological instability grounded fragile my self esteem
(generated venting, steaming, and piping hot brickbats). When,
as a newly minted harrumphing, grubbing, and floundering dada
enmeshment (analogous to a fish caught in a net, hence quickly
ricocheting, rabidly splashing, and sloppily thrashing) predicated
my foray into das fatherhood. Aye experienced the nearest
approximation Bing battered, rammed, and torpedoed from
glomming (par for yore rye ya heap) necessarily imposed
adult responsibility. Such metaphorical motoring across avast
Battle Creek with no landfall in sight, this then nada so Grand
Turk (key in the straw) Otto man continually snapped, cracked
and popped. This human ping-pong fitbit part player papa felt
akin to subjection re: thralldom). At this juncture in me cross
currents of existence I can harkens back to those most exhausting,
fatiguing, and grueling endeavors. Hindsight offers this aging
baby boomer the luxury to cast astern. Retrospective leisurely
trawls along shoals throes of fatherhood allow, enable and provide
and opportunity to scrutinize perchance, where arises this on account
of the empty nest syndrome. Ordinarily the wife (i.e. missus to appear
more formal), would caw out my name nonstop, but she opted to
organize cluster of assorted household items at apartment, we hope to
move within a fortnight. Thy spouse volunteered her own mini reprieve
by setting order to miscellaneous fixings gradually amassed, appropriated,
and gifted thru out twenty two plus years of marriage, which hodgepodge
of personal possessions downsized whence circumstance dictates evaluating
goods having keepsake meaning versus anomaly of belongings that can
be unloaded, repurposed for someone else, or ordained as unworthy to schlep.
Alone asper like a very brief sabbatical from marriage finds stillness amidst
white noise of whirring fan. Thus, I sit here ruminating how to dredge up
some idea for a poem. This husband became acclimated, conditioned, and
embossed with a mate a tete for two plus decades, whereby both thee dos
delightful daughters on track 742 heading west. Honest to dog, I miss role
of fatherhood when either off spring (with age difference of approximately
twenty five plus months) romped, scampered, and trotted as toddlers, and
upon childhood, thy little girls found exultant excitement dashing higgledy-
piggledy, hither and yon, to and fro across the playground as thee most
glorious human indulgence. Despite plaintive wail vis a vis Juliet saying
goodnight to Romeo (…parting is such sweet sorrow) haint pleasurable
atoll. Hitherto unknown that during the most vexing, trying, and quaking
bouts when both kin of thy loin fought like angry cats would there
transpire the occasion of sincere tearfulness ululating vain warbling. Now
a pang of nostalgia arises when I drive past their happy go lucky stomping
turf, or reflect on answering the trumpet call to chauffer one or thee other
to amusement park, play date, mall, favorite toy store such as Fivebelow,
birthday party, et cetera. Even certain tunes recalled to mind and/or heard
being broadcast across the audio logical spectrum a cause for moistened
tear ducts. Wince with sadness also mixed with sigh lent expostulations
of first outermost inspiring spiritedly bundled joy. Both progeny
metamorphosed into able bodied, minded and spirited young lasses, whose
attainment far exceeded any projections internally forecast. Initial onset of
parent role found me all thumbs. Prior to begetting two darling dames,
this chap spent a disproportionate number of hours sequestered within
some hideaway, which frequently happened to be the designated bedroom
at 324 Level Road, Collegeville, Pennsylvania, 19010. Never did thee
majority days of mine life point to babysitting or working with that
chronological demographics comprising adoring blessed innocence,
murmuring newborn obliviousness, that bespoke penultimate unsullied,
utmost virtue necessitating interaction with tender infants beckoning being
cradled, endearingly fondled, demonstrably easing fondness gripping
heartstrings issue jetblue kinks. Aye felt pitched headlong into this
foreign territory, and initially experienced utmost awkwardness when
attending, pampering and pulling (albeit gently) ipsy daisy, the nascent
hint of autonomy. Remembrance and recollection of élan, joie de vivire,
and yea those ear splitting threshold of pain screaming tantrums all
boxed into tidy wholesome zen announcing nuggets of greater
meaningfulness and absolute value. The above long winded reverie
intended and meant tubby a semi biography, but leave hit up to his hie
n hiss, he went way overboard, and will give a one line summarization
to describe his i.e. your truly life sentence fate decreed. He, (this
Anglophile chipper chap (matthew scott harris) lived under duress
of extreme anxiety, obsessive/compulsive behavior, panic attacks and
essentially schizoid personality disorder for greater part of his life and
hard times, which raw bits would warrant fleshing out to extrapolate
how these psychic pitfalls represented critical factors at various and
sundry turning points in his life.
