En route to see the folks. For the second-to-last time I’ll visit them whilst they’re still occupying the residence of Halesovej 6. Could that be the reason behind the chest-pains I’ve been having lately? Possibly so. Reminds me all too much of the anxiety attacks I sufferend whilst preparing for K’s birth.
Don’t know how I feel about it all. It’s my childhood home and I went through a great deal of growing up there. Some intentional, some not. And I grew out of it for a while, but got drawn back in somehow. I still remember arriving there, picking my own room, but don’t recall how old I was. 4?
All things come to an end. I hope their new house will fit their ages better than this, old one. Won’t be so many trips to the garden. What’s that like to leave behind, all those years of care-taking? What was it all for, if only to surrender it to someone else? I guess I’m much too busy to appreciate what they got out of it. If that notion even struck them.
They’re honest people with honest purposes. And aspirations I guess, perhaps not all of them fulfilled. Do they wonder what happened to all that time they’ve put behind them already? I know they had plans for that house, and those grounds, that never came to fruition. What of that, now? Do they harbor much regret?
They’re people of few answers to all my questions. It’s not that they won’t talk about these things, it’s in that they don’t care about them to the degree as do I, nor delve much in the past. It’s in the generation as well as their genes, and to some extend in their choice of settling where they did. Helped mold them, and then I. I hope I won’t be as tight-lipped when my kids come to ask me about stuff like that, of the past. I do regret I’ll never learn more about them. I’m a highly self-aware individual to this day in large part because there were no answers to my questions, but I’m also too self-contained at times for my own good. Getting married and having kids greatly helped that, thank the Lord.
So that’s a regret, and one I won’t try and remedy. Won’t do any good. They’ll always be where they are, take all in that needs taking in, until the end of their lives. Why should I care further about my social status and about my community and even society as a whole beyond that, that’s in the choices I made. I could try and explain it to them, but it’s not in their genration to appreciate it – they haven’t the tools.
Makes me feel older than I am, this train-trip. I’m passing towns great and small, farmscapes, fields. A lot of different lives, a lot of difference trades. I would’ve been half decent at what ever I set out to do, wouldn’t I. I’m at heart a working man, like dad, same tenacity. Same stringiness, if that’s the right word. Give me the tools and show me once, then leave me alone to get on with it. There will always be that to fall back on, won’t there, even if they change location, mum and dad.
Will be good to see them again. Will make a trip to the new house and learn of their plans for it. Dad does seem to be exited (in his own way) about it, so I’ll hope to share some of that, and reaffirm his. From a distance, of what I’ve seen, it’s not a bad choice for a house. Close enough to all that matters, and everything else not far off from that.
An unsually high number of question-marks to this entry, as compared to the others. Not that I was looking for answers… Was I? Oh, will stop it already, enough now. Am hoping for a quiet day.