The old memories came out. Someone said “ah, those were the good ole days.” Someone asked, “where did all the time go?”
I felt relief. Gratitude, even.
I’ve been a single dad on 50% custody for 12 years. Every game. Every doctor’s appointment. Every meal I didn’t have to make but made anyway.
I showed up whether it was my time or not, and I could look back at all of it and call those the good ole days. I wouldn’t be wrong.
But I’m 50, and my good ole days are right now. In the last five months I’ve been baptized, married, folded nine people into something that we now call family, and bought three acres of country I don’t entirely know what to do with.
Same presence. New life.
I haven’t missed a thing in 12 years and I don’t plan to start now. I don’t wonder where the time went. I was there.
Later, pulling into the driveway, I looked out at the property and felt the weight of everything that needs doing. The grass. The leaves. The fence line. Many other things I haven’t named yet. More work than I can probably handle.
I wouldn’t ever go back. Her good ole days are in a photo. Mine are in an unfinished yard.