2026-08-21

Saw an end of summer review at my son's centre de loisir.

Maybe it was the end of summer vibe. Maybe the awkward home video style editing of their little film. Maybe it was seeing the echo of my son in another's 4y old that brought home to me the pace of years.

Whatever it was, something touched off a huge wave of nostalgic sadness.

Nostalgia is always about time. Suddenly I remembered my son as a baby. The moment, he first went to school and i stayed for an hour playing mega-sized plus plus blocks with him until he felt ok for me to leave. I remember when he could barely talk – or walk. And i see him now, still not yet even seven but already a boy and on the way, I can see it, to being a man.

It is not that I don't want any of that, in fact it is a joy to gradually have more "grown up" conversations. But it always brings home, so so powerfully the passage of time. The inexorable grinding of those wheels, that grind so mighty slow, but so fine.

I took him in my arms and hugged him, something, thank goodness, he is still quite happy for me to do.

I hugged him tight. And thought of those lines that I whispered over him back when i would watch him go to sleep: may god's blessings keep you always, may your wishes all come true …

And I want to whisper that over every child, every beautiful, perfect, god-forsaken one on our planet. Whether loved or lost, whether in the midst of plenty or of war.

I want to gift them my love, the love of the father, to throw upon them the cloak of protection I throw about my own. It can be a beautiful world, but also a harsh one. I learnt that upon the playground, and I continue to dream of a world where no child needs to learn that nature is amoral, that the mirror of buddha nature may be covered by dust.

And I want his tenderness of feeling, his rage when I cut a tree ("because a tree lives, it has arms daddy"), to not be sullied by the world, for its innocent insight to be nurtured and preserved and deepened into compassion that lasts and reaches out to all the living.

So go my son, keep growing, keep moving away from me, as you inevitably must, so that one day you can return, full and filled by the world, and it is you who hold me so tenderly with tears in your eyes.