A Big Door Slides Open - Unexpectedly

Lately, my son has been closing the door to his room when he’s inside. Part of it is for increased solitude and privacy, a chance to make his room an oasis for himself. In the last couple weeks, it’s also been to keep all the AC captured in his room

 

I certainly respect the need for ‘sanctuary.’ He’s that kind of kid. Heck, I’m still  that kind of kid. So, it’s been on my mind, as he approaches his twelfth birthday, that some doors are closing on an interpersonal level as well… that the physical door corresponds to an emotional door.

This last weekend, we spent most of the day at Oaks Park, a Portland institution. And the site of the company picnic. We all went. The kids love the rides and, this year, they’re both big/old enough to ride virtually all the rides on their own. For the first time ever, brother and sister used the buddy system to spend most of the afternoon prowling the park’s midway, making their own decisions about rides, then checking in to share their adventures. In this case, a door is opened: one of independence and freedom for the children; one of relaxed vigilance and a chance to be a ‘couple’ again for the parents. So far, a door hasn’t shut – the kids like it just as much when we join them as when they go unescorted. They like the ability to do either.

For a variety of reasons, we arranged to have family/school friends meet us at Oaks Park after the company picnic had finished. Our friends have two daughters: one is R’s age and is R’s classmate at Access (I’ll call her K); the other is M’s age and is M’s classmate at Access (I’ll call her E). So, the four schoolmates – three girls and one boy – stayed the evening with the other parents while C and I fulfilled another social obligation.

The kids were all so excited to be with each other, they ran off to have fun without even telling C and I goodbye. Hmmm… is that a door closing, or a door opening? I’m not sure which. Maybe both.

The plan was for us to pick up our kids at 10 o’clock at Oaks Park. We called for a status about 9:30, concerned that our obligation was running late. The parents at Oaks Park said not to rush. See, the kids had chosen go roller skating at the huge skating rink under the massive Wurlitzer organ. They’d be there until the rink closed at 10:30.  For sure.

We had extra time. Hadn’t expected that…

With a sigh of relief, we asked how our children were behaving. They’d only been at the Park since eleven that morning; meltdowns wouldn’t have been out of the question, afterall. The report back was glowing, with the following bits of interesting information:

• M was doing just fine. No issues at all.
• R was being a fine host and a gentle leader. He had even coaxed K and E to ride some rides they normally wouldn’t even consider. They were trusting of his leadership and he was handling it well.
• R and K paired up for all the rides all evening, as did M and E. On this evening, the bond of age similarity trumped the sibling bond.
• At the moment we were talking to the other parents, R and K were skating the couples skate, hand-in-hand.
  
  Wait…..    what? Say that again.

Seems that everyone was skating just fine, getting along wonderfully. Then it was time for a couples-only skate. Someone suggested that R and K could skate it together. The first reaction, apparently, was ‘Eww!” followed almost immediately by “okay.” And off they went.

Even as I’m being told about this, a ‘highlight reel’ of mental snapshots from R’s life is flashing across the inside of my skull, from birth to now. I get to the end of the highlight reel, and my brain inserts a new (conjured-up) mental image of my tall, slim blonde son skating hand-in-hand, a little awkwardly, with a tall, slim blonde girl.

And I feel like a door has opened. I could prophesy a whole future of cool images in which my son is participating in a meaningful way in society. As he holds a girl’s hand for the first time, some people (his Mom?) might see him slipping away.  I guess, in some ways, he is indeed. Me? I see him taking a step toward his future, toward knowing himself. And I was comforted by the thought. I saw the opening of a massive, blimp-hanger sized door, bathing him with the sunshine of his future.

We talked a little about that night, R and I. He was a little more talkative than normal, but not a huge change. I didn’t press; nor did I let on exactly how much I already knew. No sense putting undue attention on this and causing R to slam that door closed.

And there’s no sense in making a big deal out of this. Not to mix my metaphors, but this little milestone was like a moonshot. What I mean is, we put men on the Moon to prove we could. Then we stopped. We haven’t repeated the feat for 30+ years. Only now, after some time has passed, are we planning a return to the Moon.

For R, skating with a girl at Oaks Park certainly is a milestone, but he’s eleven. Girls are unlikely to become a habit until sometime later. He probably won’t try to repeat that same achievement for some time. Right now, i’ts a ‘been there, done that’. Like going to the Moon. Nevertheless, he went ‘way out there’ and he survived. Enjoyed it a little, even.

You know, I really, REALLY like the person my son is becoming.