Willow by the pond still

In which our Hero and a tree revisit the ghosts of imaginary boyfriends past

Willow gave me a call the other day.

In case, Gentle Reader, you’ve forgotten one of the more colourful occasional characters of Sentinel world, let me remind you that Willow is a cousin who, when she was 15 or 16, decided to call me, 20 years her senior, just to talk. And question. When we started, she was in grade school. And now she’s finished her second year of university and I think relative age has made her a little reflective.

First she told me about work drama. And then she thought about how seriously she used to take the high school life drama and how silly it seems now. Which was when she verbally startled “waitaminute.”

“How did you listen to me go on and on about that stuff?”

I pointed out that it was pretty important to her at the time, so I listened. When she started challenging me that I must not have been paying attention, I pointed out the evolution of the detailed mockery about some of the things she’d tell me, and how I was able to ask about her classmates for a while even after school ended.

“I’m so sorry!” she wailed. I assured her I didn’t mind. And then the conversation got interesting.

“Did you ever worry about saying the wrong thing?”

Gentle Reader, did you go back and look at some of the questions this girl has asked me over the years? Go ahead. No, it’s okay, I’ll wait. You need it fresh in your mind to really appreciate the question she just asked me.

Every moment we’ve talked.

“Why?”

Think about how much your perspective has shifted from 10th grade when you told me all that drama to now when you’re laughing at how silly it was. That’s the difference in your perspective between then and now, and your perspective is the result of the journey. And that’s four years. Well, I’m twenty years older than you, so that’s five times that amount of perspective. Except also it’s about me. I’m really good at being a 40-year-old man. Whereas I know nothing about being a 20-year-old girl.

So, yeah, I worried if I was telling you something you couldn’t use or that would make you cynical or mess you up. Look at the questions you asked me.

When I pointed out the relative time scales, I heard a soft “whoa” so I think she really tried to picture that. And then she told me, “Don’t worry, I don’t think you screwed me up. You did good, really.”

She wasn’t done though.

“So see? It was so silly and you were worried about it, so why did you spend all that time listening to me?”

Because just a little bit, you’re my kid.

She was touched. And I felt a little bit guilty about that because technically any of these kids would get the same treatment if they cared to exercise their option to claim my attention. But even so, I wasn’t actually prepared for her response.

“That’s true.”

It is? Well, it is, but what do you mean?

“Well, I was thinking about someday when I was getting married, if my dad wasn’t there to give me away, I’d want you to do it.”

My turn to be touched. And then, out of my moment of quiet, I smiled.

I’d be honoured, but i think we’d both be happier if your dad just made a point to handle it himself. Although, if I am giving you away, you’re going to have to invite me.