Sowing Reasons
On my way to work this morning I was thinking about how weird it is that I exist because two humans, who are only slightly older than me, just felt like making me one night in August 1987. I continue to struggle with their motivations even though they wanted to have kids.
“It's what you did. But we had you on purpose- you were not an accident. We’d been through two miscarriages already and we wanted you very badly” my mom assured me
“Yeah, but… why? Why did you actually want to have kids?” I asked
“Because we wanted to have a family.” my dad added with a tone that suggested his statement explained something that didn't need further explanation.
I know it’s more complicated than what they can articulate with words, and there’s a biological factor to it, but I’d still like more of an explanation. My dad actually tried to explain it more after I refused to let him wriggle out of the question:
“...because I wanted to have a family and feel the love of a loving family. I always pictured Thanksgiving dinner with family around the table, which is something I felt like I didn’t get to have.”
That isn’t nothing, but I pointed out that my mom was only 20 when I was born:
“People just grew up faster back then.” she said with pride
So maybe that’s all it is; at 38 I’m still nowhere near as grown up as my 20 year old mother was when she decided to create a life. I disagree on many levels but maybe it's true because I’m the only one still trying to pull it apart. Imagine eating a croissant though: my typical method of ingestion is to treat it like a sandwich: bite down on either end until it’s small enough to fit into my mouth with a single bite, but Wendy savors it more by pulling it apart as she goes; she even has a methodology to it:
“I like to break off the end and pull it apart from the center; it makes a huge mess, but I like to eat it in strips.”
Both ways are valid, we're still eating croissants, but one gets you a much more detailed experience. That’s all I’m trying to do with my parents because I want a more detailed explanation. The part that eats at me occasionally is the complexity they appear to take for granted. I was 25 when I met my wife and until then I thought I was going to be a father someday- not because I dreamed of being a dad, but because it's what people do. And then when I said it out loud to my 23 year old girlfriend she said:
"Let me know when you think of a reason and then we'll talk about having kids."
I was asked to go to Japan in September and people were surprised when I said I didn't want to go. My mind keeps trying to come up with reasons that would entice me, like “Maybe if it was Tokyo instead of Matsue” or “I bet the food is really good” but I don't want going to Japan this time to signal that I'd be willing to go other places in the future. My mind and I know that accepting this invitation feels like I'm compromising the peaceful existence I've curated. " You can't go to Oregon? But we sent you to Japan!" The wheel doesn’t stop weaving because I’ve grown comfortable with the pattern, but I’ve found the pattern I like and adding anything to it makes it feel too complex to weave. Yet some people actually prefer the complexity- maybe it doesn’t feel complex to them because it just is what it is: "It's what people do"
Phil, for example, actually likes the travel elements of his job:
“I was just a farm kid who had never been anywhere or seen anything before.”
He took me to dinner once and while I was getting the most basic bitch version of sushi, deep fried in tempura and covered in sauce, Phil’s dinner was squid sashimi with tobiko eggs.
“It gets kinda foamy when you chew it; it’s interesting.”
He let me try it and I came to the conclusion that he must be bored with food if he’s choosing that for dinner. I guess I keep circling a very straightforward but oddly misunderstood idea: What’s good for me might not be good for you. Duh