Fixed Points, A Ben Post

Moss is 5 months and I've found myself thinking a lot about time lately.  Time is something I've always had problems with: often I don't have enough; sometimes I've got more than I know what to do with; about three times a year (Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday come to mind) I'm overwhelmed as I look at the artifacts of my life and am faced with the simultaneously obvious and subtle fact that I'm getting older right alongside everything else.

The juxtaposition of fixed points in time and time's relentless progression baffles and awes and confuses and inspires me.

Honestly it's something I don't like thinking about any more than I have to, but having Moss around is kind of forcing the issue.  When was the last time I was going through obvious physical changes on a short enough time scale to actually be able to notice and say "I see a difference from last week" Probably the beginning of high school.

With Moss it's completely different.  He's growing so quickly that, while he still resembles the newborn I remember from those first few weeks, I'm constantly noticing that he's put on another pound or is another inch longer or isn't fitting into the clothes he was wearing just the previous week.

Life has felt so consistent over the past few years that I sometimes forget that I move with the flow. Things remained similar enough that sometimes it's been easier considering myself hovering in a fixed point, but I can't do it anymore.  Moss's birth was a fixed point for certain, but now he's moving right along with us.  On the positive side, it's forcing me to stay aware of the present more than I'm probably used to; then again, this kind of reminder that the "a man's days are counted" brings that semi-maudlin holiday mood swing around a lot more often than I realized it would.

Going home tends to evoke these feelings, and always has.  Mom loves telling how, even as a small child, I would get teary-eyed looking through pictures from earlier in my very short life.  This Thanksgiving, I did the sorts of things I usually do when I go back to Tennessee: spent time with family, visited old friends, went to my nostalgic places.  This year, I had Moss in tow the entire time.

Now it's not just about seeing my brothers, mom, and grandma; it's about seeing his uncles, Mimi T, and Grand Mimi C.  Checking in on high school friendsisn't just about shooting the shit anymore; it's about seeing how they're coping with the same kinds of life changes.  Dropping in on a former teacher or scout master isn't just about talking about the classroom or camping days; it's about interacting with other adults who share common experiences beyond those from our mutual past because we're all people moving through the same basic medium.

My relationships have been augmented by his presence, just as I have.

Moss makes me feel old.  He makes me feel alive and that I have experience that will be of value to him.  He makes me feel like I have a lot of growing yet to do, and that he's going to be an integral part of it.