Tzivia, when she was a baby, hugging the beach, in Port Townsend |
I’m driving with my kid to a 3rd birthday party yesterday, when Macklemore and Kesha’s song Good Old Days
comes on the radio. I start crying — bawling — as I sing along to the
chorus, lost in thoughts about my life before becoming a parent.
Afterwards I turn off the radio and ask my 4-year-old:
“Did you like that song?”
“Yeah!” she says, “What’s it about?”
I
cry harder as I explain, that we’re always changing, and
people — especially grown-ups — have a hard time living in the present,
being happy about where we are. So much looking forward, looking back.
Saying some other time was the best, when we were younger. That it’s
hard to see the good that’s right in front of us.
As
I talk, I’m wondering to myself if this is a Good Old Day right now.
We’re headed to a party. To see our friends in the sunshine, to eat
pizza and cupcakes. A total Good Old Day, right?
So why am I crying?
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