I've been blessed with good parents. They're divorced, unfortunately (as a child, you can't help to be a bit sorry about that, even though I'm divorced as well), but they seem to be doing okay. I love them both as much as any child can love his parents.Today I'll talk a bit about my dad, because he's nothing like me ;) I never had any trouble understanding my mother. She and I are pretty similar, character-wise. My father though...that was a bit difficult, especially when he was as old as I am now.Looking back, I got the impression that he was trying to accomplish something he couldn't quite reach, and was - sometimes - very frustrated about it. It was the way he had such a short fuse...it didn't take much for him to blow up. I never hated or even disliked my father, but we didn't really seem to connect. We didn't share many common interests...I was a hopeless little bookwurm, while my dad...well...wasn't. I don't remember him ever reading a book when I was a child.There are two things I never ever doubted though...that he was trying to be a good dad as well as he could, and that he was immensly proud of my "intellect", which he regarded as vastly superior to his (it isn't), and meant I was destined for great things (I wasn't ;) ).
The last couple of years I've seen him change...like he's much more at ease with himself and the world. He picked up (and enjoys) things I've never seen him do before, like gardening and *gasp* even reading. It's nice to be able to talk about books now...even though our last conversation was a disagreement over the quality of the works of Dan Brown. There's a friendship between us now I'm sure there wasn't when I was a kid.Another thing I've noticed: I'll tease him mercilessly about his tidiness, or his tantrums so many years ago, or the fact that I'll beat him for sure in tennis, or the name of his dog, and he takes it all in good humour. He's just that much more relaxed these days.He even keeps a blog now, which is more or less the reason of this post ;) He's very proud of it.
1 opmerking:
Elke dag, meer en meer en scherper kom ik tot het besef dat intelligentie er niet toe doet. Ik word daarin bevestigd door ja,... 'Marcel Proust', in zijn 'à la recherche...' namelijk komt hij daar vaak op terug. Intelligenties hoeven niet constant gewogen te worden, ze belemmeren de chemie die kan voortspruiten uit echte menselijke contacten. Dat heeft jouw zoon dus ook gezien. Avé d.
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