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Have I broken your brain? Hardly. Well, it's possible I guess your mind indulged in a half an unconscious pause as a line on a page usually denotes a change in subject or perspective or possibly a time-jump in the narrative. But no, you're making this too complicated already! It's just a fucking line! Why do you always do this? I'm trying to make a point and you come in stomping all over the place by insisting on having your own point of view. It's not that I don't appreciate you, it's just very inconvenient sometimes. I'm not mad, I'm just saying.
I'm trying to say my oldest kid moved back in to my house after being gone for the better part of three years. There, you got it out of me. I'd have gotten there eventually, but you know I like my metaphors. Today it's lines. Be grateful though, it was down to that or the human digestive system. It's much more complete as framing devices go, but I really couldn't find an elegant way to work around the inevitable end product.
This isn't bragging, but people like my kids. Like seriously they stop me sometimes to tell me what a joy it is to have them in their class or as a dental patient or in their police line-up. I'm not really sure how I've managed to come out with three pretty functional (mostly) adult young men, but it's not a thing I'm looking to analyze too deeply. This is a lie I tell myself over and over again to try to wrassle with the compulsion to think about things too deeply. Sometimes it even works and the result is simple gratitude! That's tougher to do when the subject is, like, a relationship I may or may not be in, but with the kids, one of the few things in life that can bring me unadulterated joy,* it's actually possible to just Let It Be.
As Good Kids, I suppose now I assumed we'd be on the Straight Line program, where they live with me, they learn how to speak, their voices change, they move out, I have grandkids, the end. Having one move back in is something I should really have predicted as a) a person who reads things, where "things" includes the type of news stories about how kids moving back home for some period of time happens at somewhere approaching a 100% rate and b) a human alive during a period of unprecedented social instability and just general historical doubt. Literally anything can happen. Donald Trump was president. All of Texas just froze to death. And really, this is what surprised me?
To be fair to myself, "surprise" is not the right word. And I'm not upset about it, to be painfully clear. The three kids I have** are my favorite humans out of all the humans and having an extra one of those around, especially and particularly one who has a paying job and a life plan and very little in the way of material goods that I have to find a way to fucking store, I'm mostly thrilled. I know you're not supposed to be friends with your kids, but that's only when they're like 9 and can turn out to be dickheads because of stuff you do. When they're 21 and you play Star Wars Battlefront II together, that's a different thing. Besides, by this point, if they've turned out to be a dickhead, it's because you fucked up when they were 9 anyway. Can't un-ring that bell. Let's shoot some jedi.
It's just an adjustment as I've had half my time to myself--like literally to just myself--since their mom moved out 11 years ago and we started splitting custody. Now there's someone here all the time, which is an adjustment but... pretty great? As an actual introvert it was a little work to know how to not be completely completely turned off like I had been able to in my no-kid hours, but we're talking about a modern Gen-Z adult. They want to be left the fuck alone most of the time anyway. So it's still alone time, but then still someone to have meals with and do other stuff. Almost exclusively Battlefront II, but you get the idea.
So there's a zig when I didn't even expect a zag, but I'm finding out the clean, uncomplicated straight line isn't as desirable as it wants you to think. The straight line only has one ending, which is a little dire to consider, but is not an option to not-consider when it's as rigid-flat as a disappearing horizon. As I double back on myself, I'm afforded the fiction of pretending it's a detour, a bend away from the destination with something a little more interesting to see.
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*Other things on the short list: spice cake. Croissants. Windy winter days. Scones. OK, primarily baked things. Plus that wind deal.
**I'm not going to make the stupid "that I know of" eyebrow-waggle of a joke, even though I'm a dad. I had the vasectomy. I fucking know.
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