A guy decided it was time to leave the nest. He formed the view that he wouldn’t grow and develop if he just went on working with his Da and bro. Life was out there and life was short and fleeting. He seized the hour, asked his Da if he could have the inheritance that would come his way in later life and, to his delight, his Da supported him in his choice.
His Da was remarkably detached. He trusted his son, didn’t try to manipulate him to stay, gave him a heap of cash and the young man headed off, leaving home, heading off like Dick Whittington for London. He’d seized the hour. He was creating himself anew, decided things for himself, becoming an adult.
He lost his virginity soon enough and had a number of sexual liaisons. He explored his sexuality, mainly with women, and realized he was more straight than gay. He even met the woman he thought he might live with for life but it didn’t work out. He learned much about life, about himself and about growing up.
He got a job which he was good at and he went on learning and feeling more alive than ever before. He was obeying himself, making choices for himself, earning for himself and in search of the love of his life (he wouldn’t meet her for another three years!)
Then the financial crisis hit. He lost his job. He’d taken on more debt than he could manage. He had to hand back the keys of his house. He was skimping just to eat enough and after a few months of that he came to his senses and said, ‘Feck it, I’m going home. I’ll touch base with Da and start again from scratch.’
His Da, ever detached (in a good way), ever supportive, said ‘Sure, son, come on home until you get yourself sorted. You’re always welcome here.’
His Da threw a party for him, celebrating his son’s decision-making, his adventures, and his return home to recalibrate his life.
His brother, who had never made an adult decision in his life, was well-cheesed off by all this. Fooling himself into thinking that his cowardice to live his life, make his own decisions and take his chance in the world was a virtue rather than the vice that it was he said to his Da: ‘Here I am slaving for you on the minimum wage for the past decade and your other son comes home broke from all his galiivanting and you welcome him home and throw him a party.’
His Da said. ‘I love you, son, no more and no less than your brother. You chose to stay. You knew the wages. It was your choice. You knew you could have earned more by taking your chance in the world. You could have trusted yourself and left home and been willing to make some mistakes and learned to live with the consequences of your decisions. I respect your choice, just as I respect your brother’s. But don’t blame me or your brother if you die without ever feeling that you have really lived, without ever having taken some risks, without facing your fear of making mistakes and having to live with the consequences of your choices, which is what adults do. Don’t blame anyone. You alone decide.’
Joe Armstrong © 2018