Drawing the Line

Drawing a line in the sand. I'm sure we've all done it at some point or other in our lives; maybe when we're ending something... maybe when we're about to being something... Sometimes the line in the sand is to announce to others where you stand in no uncertain terms, sometimes it's to confirm it to yourself. Whatever their reasons or purpose for being created, they are hard to ignore once declared.

In my life I've drawn several lines in the sand. I've ended relationships when they've crossed that line and I've refused to do things because what was being asked went beyond the lines I had drawn for myself. I've also used them often with my children. I used to say to the boys when they were growing up, "we don't have a lot of hard and fast rules in this house but the ones we do have are absolute. Don't cross them." And when they did (which happily they didn't do it often), they knew the line had been crossed and an equal and opposite reaction was about to come (proof that physics comes in handy in real life... Thank you Newton).

Of course, lines in the sand don't have to be threatening in nature. It's not always about "if you do this, I am going to have to do that." Sometimes they are more like yardsticks... benchmarks. I am face to face with one of my classic lines in the sand these days.

Many of the lines I drew as a parent were created more as advise for my boys than direction; I was hoping to offer my perspective on life in tangible, measurable ways that were easy to absorb and hopefully follow. I have often shared my thoughts on relationships here (when it comes right down to it, I talk about little else) and I was equally communicative with the boys. It seems to have worked in one regard because my eldest has thrown one of those "perspectives" back to me recently and my how that came as a surprise. So what's come back to stare me square in the face?

"Don't get married before you turn 30." Something my eldest is about to do in 21 days. Three weeks. Actually, I told them they didn't ever need to get married because, as I used to tell them, "what matters is that you love the person you are with, treat them with respect and accept nothing less from them. But most of all, show them you love them. All the time." Marriages fail every day (been there, done that) and relationships with no legal proof of existence carry on. What matters is love. So my eldest happily reminded me of my "30 Rule" just a few days ago.

He is in a long term relationship with a beautiful gal who I adore as much as I could anyone who is not my own child. My son and I have talked about them getting married so if it happens this week, this month, this year or this decade it would come as no surprise. And of course I'm not so self-involved to think that any one of my three boys has not committed to marriage because of this advise I was always so happy to dole out.

But the reality is that as time marches on, so does the likelihood that my children will marry, have children, establish their own families to nurture and grow. So what's my latest line in the sand? Be happy. Love. Absolutely.

The Same and Different

As my vacation continues (now five days down and five to go) today I happily spent the day heading back to my favourite summer beach, Port Dover, Ontario. I've been going to this beach for years now, from back when I used to pack up my three boys and their sun screen, juice boxes, snacks, frisbees, water bottles, ice packs, hats, flip flops, bug spray, books, blankets, towels, umbrella, lawn chairs and inevitably STILL forgot something and went out for our pilgrimage to the sunny shores.

I am happy at the beach, how can you not be? Today was a perfect day; not too hot, light breeze and because it was a weekday, the beach was very lightly populated. I stopped first for my favourite summer lunch, an Arbor Dog hot dog, fries and Golden Glow. I've written about this delectible treat before but suffice to say, it's worth the drive. It is NOT just a hot dog. I savoured every bite and while I did was amazed by the family who ate at the picnic table behind me.

It was a mom and her two children (at least I assume they were both hers, that may or may not be true). They too were enjoying their dogs and fries but what amazed me was the conversation... The two children were talking about collecting Pokemon cards. Way back in the day, my boys were avid Pokemon collectors. They saved every cent they could, did additional chores and regularly scoured the sofa and chairs for any available spare change so they could make the short trek to our neighbourhood convenience store and buy their latest fix. This may not seem a particulary amazing thing to surrepticiously witness but keep in mind my eldest son is approaching 30 years old. These are not particularly recent family transactions. And this got me to wondering...

Over the years families have come and gone from that beach and like mine, have grown up and changed only to be replaced by other families who by all intents and purposes fill the same mold. I lay on the beach, I closed my eyes and just listened... There was nothing I could hear that would differentiate if I were there in 2013 or 1993. I could hear no iPODs, iPADs, boomboxes, radios, walkmen or any other device belying the date. Only the sound of children playing, parents beckoning their children to "come back a bit closer to shore" and couples looking for the perfect spot to plant for the afternoon. I could just as easily have been at the beach with my boys back when they were little and I was more concerned about their sunscreen than my own.

Even when I opened my eyes, there was little to give away the date other than perhaps an increased frequency of tattooed bodies and purple hair. But it's when you pay attention, you feel the difference. My boys are grown and on their own. The children I hear are not mine. But there is surprising comfort to be found in the consistency of knowing I am walking the same path as I once did with my boys when they were young enough to still want to hold my hand, and that it is the same path that so many other boys walked with their moms before and will for years to come.