Today was weird.
In that it was normal. Or wait. It was normal, which was weird. Yeah, that’s it.
It was normal, but that was weird.
My wife and I took our kids to a waterpark today.
It was glorious.
My oldest, who turns four in the fall, was tentative at first. The water shooting from the splash cannons was a sufficient defense for the water playground. So like any self-respecting father, I climbed up that playground tower and showed that kid how to slide.
A few minutes later, dad’s prompting was a distant memory. For the next two hours, my kid got a Stairmaster and Aquarobics workout in the sun.
He is sleeping like a sumbitch tonight.
It got me thinking.
A little encouragement in the right time and place, and he was off the races. We commonly associate this quick “mastery” with children and their frequent epiphanies. This can happen to us as adults too, if only we would let it.
50 days ago, two swell amigos named Dickie Bush and Nicolas Cole told me exactly what I needed to hear.
They told me that I should write. And publish. And that it would be okay. Because no one was reading.
It was one of the most liberating things anyone has ever said to me.
And it gave me the courage to get up and go down that figurative slide; again and again and again. To enjoy the climb as much as the ride. And to try to help others enjoy their time as well.
Enough metaphor. What I am trying to say is this:
We are free the moment we wish to be.
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