Parent Anxiety

When I think about my mom and dad, I don't like to think of them as my parents...together. I like to think of them as separate entities. It makes the way I view them, the way I feel about them seem better somehow. I don't know if I could ever explain it in a way that makes sense to anyone but myself, so I won't try.

My parents have known each other their entire lives, since they were kids. I'm sure their families were so intertwined that people around the block may have thought they were all brothers and sisters, before they eventually did become brothers and sisters by marriage.  They've known each other for like 40 or 50 years, and that's just crazy sauce.

It seems so strange to me now that I'm grown, now that I come back home for extended periods of time. To me, they seem so fundamentally different, so polar opposite. Perhaps at one time they were very similar, and never even imagined exactly how different they were.

I worry about my parents a lot. I worry about them like they're my kids. I worry they're not happy, with their jobs, with their children, with each other. Sometimes when I look through old photos of them, I see their faces and I wonder what they envisioned their live would be like. I wonder if they felt like I feel right now, making plans, putting things in motion, trying to see what lies ahead without looking too far ahead.  I wonder if they feel disappointed in their path, if they feel cheated in any way. I wonder if they think they're running out of time, or if they are perfectly fine with the pace they're going.

I hope that there are moments in their lives when they have been truly happy, truly in love, and felt that at that exact moment everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. I hope they still believe that can happen now, and in the future. I hope they realized that at this point in their lives, they still have the power to change things. They still have the power of belief, of positivity, of anything. I hope the advice they give me, they still believe for themselves.

Sometimes it gives me anxiety. I think my dad doesn't eat enough, he's too thin. I think when the clock turns midnight and my mom isn't home from work yet, that something has happened.

But I do know that no matter what happens in the next half of my parents lives, they have had one hell of a ride. I do know that at some point they were meant for each other. At one point they both lived their dreams, and out of their moments of happiness came my brother and I. I hope when they see me they see good and are proud. And I hope they don't hate me if they never get grandchildren.

Chuck and Holly (1912)