You Can Go Home Again

My parents are in Basel. We all went to pick the kids up from school, and I found myself sitting on the tram, next to my mom and in front of my dad. This was the first time during their trip that I had been alone with them both, without the kids or Jessica, and I was suddenly reduced to Son. The additional layers of my identity — husband, father, adult, writer, 45-year-old-man — had disappeared.

It was a very strange feeling. I looked around and knew that the other passengers saw me no differently than what I had appeared when I walked onto the tram.

I turned to my mom and smiled. And turned back to my dad. I felt different, smaller somehow, like a kid. It was nice and also spooky. Here was my mom, here was my dad. We were going to school. I was a functional part of their unit, a smaller part. Weird.

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Comments

  • mom Howard  On November 20, 2011 at 6:44 pm

    Beautiful !! Love, Mom and lDad

  • mom Howard  On November 20, 2011 at 6:56 pm

    Loved your Bugs bean “you can go home again” You will always be our son. Lucky us. Love, Mom and Dad

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