So many of the banalities that my parents had mouthed to me when I was a child have come true in my adult life. I have to give it to them - they were dead right about a lot of things. They were right about the fact that some skills, swimming and music for instance, are better learnt as a child, about the fact that adult life is more complex than a child could ever imagine, that money is the universal divider, that more pleasure can be derived from a job well done than from idle chatter - I could go on. They were speaking from experience, of course, but as is typical of parents of that generation they made no attempt to coerce me into their point of view. Instead these tidbits of wisdom were delivered as-is or in between thrashings or during the-annual-report-card-lecture. Would I have been more receptive if they had made an attempt to seduce me with reason? I don't know. I was foolish and idealistic then and only had a head for Agatha Christies and writing bad poetry (the kind that rhymes "fun" with "bun").
Yesterday I was playing ball with my toddler son and out of the blue he came over and delivered a wet kiss on my face. My heart constricted with pleasure and in the next instant there was a slight jab of something that I’ve come to identify as guilt. I think they call it survivor's guilt. If you have a loved one in pain about which you can do little or nothing or if you've ever been through an ordeal and emerged unscathed while others have succumbed, you would know what I’m talking about. Its this feeling that you don't deserve to be happy just as those others don't deserve to be unhappy. What did you do to earn you happiness? That other person was more talented, better looking and better positioned to have a fruitful life than you. What throw of dice cheated them out of their happiness and delivered it to you? And when will it be your turn to pay up? Every new experience, every one of life's pleasure will be tainted by this nagging guilt, this reality check.
This is why that sometimes, when my son lifts his curly head in the middle of watching TV and delivers an absent minded smile in my direction, I feel this compulsion to freeze him in time. Or at least tell him to enjoy his childhood as best as he can because adult life is a mixed bag. That was the stuff of my parents’ message to me but I never got it.
