Persistence

My older son takes his road test today.

It is a man-boy who sits in the driver's seat next to me, intermittently chatting nicely and sharing his life with me, and barking at me and shutting me down.

This, I know, is normal.

In the driver's seat, he is not in control yet, grasps for it where it waits, intimidating and unsure, right beyond his fingertips.

He asks me for guidance as he changes lanes, merges, makes lefts against the un-coddling traffic.

Yes, it has all become a metaphor for his quest forward, and that limbo space where he still exists, between needing me and having to do it all on his own.


My older son takes his road test today. I am both essential and unneeded, at times merely a crutch. Pass or fail, he is moving on without me.

In the shower this morning, water ran down me in sheets, melted shampoo in my eyes, and slipped time beyond my reach.

The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali, 1931.

I have never been a huge Dali fan, but suddenly this image appeared, The Persistence of Time, its clocks useless, liquid mercury slipped through desperate fingers. I never noticed before how there is water in the background. Now this makes sense to me.

My son takes his road test today. Still, somehow, I managed to shower, dry off, brush hair, put on makeup, get dressed. Now, I stand at the computer, writing. What else is there to do? There's no holding on to time.

I know he is driving away.

- gae