Conversations

I overheard a conversation at HyVee this weekend. My husband and I were there to have breakfast, well he was there to have breakfast and I just had a coffee. He loves to eat at HyVee, so that was my gift to him, companionship at HyVee. And in the next booth came a father and his two sons.

My story is that it was the dad’s weekend with the kids. Divorced. One son looked to be around 10 and the other son about 14. Both looked sleepy, like Dad dragged them out of bed.

The 14 year old gets a phone call and hangs up and then volunteers that it was his friend who wanted him to go boating.

Why did you tell him no, you should go boating.

But we’re going to drive today and I want to drive.

We’ve got forever to learn to drive. You don’t get to go boating all the time.

But I really want to drive. Besides I want to spend time with you.

Boating would be fun, it’s a great day for boating, you should go.

Ok, I’ll call him back.

Then it is decided that they may get some driving in before the boy is to go to the friend’s house at 11. This makes him smile. He doesn’t look quite as sleepy any more.

So why did that conversation strike me so? It just caused reflection on all those conversations we have in our lifetime and how some are small and minor and cause no harm and others are small and seemingly minor and have great impressions.

I immediately felt badly for the young boy. He’s at that gawky, awkward adolescent stage. Wanting to be so cool and yet still really just a little boy. He obviously wanted to drive. Driving is important and cool. 

And, if my assumption was correct, he also wanted to spend the day with his dad. Hanging out with dad. Doing guy stuff. What a better way to spend the day. And I wanted to tell Dad that soon his son would not want to hang out with him, so do it, NOW!

Then I thought of all those conversations I’ve had, you’ve had, we’ve all had, when we maybe didn’t read the signals correctly. Or we maybe weren’t paying enough attention to really get to the heart of the matter. And later, too late later, we realize what we should have said or done.

And I felt for the boy. He wanted to drive. He wanted to be with his dad. And yes, maybe he did want to go boating, but he agreed to go boating because his dad told him it was a better option. Was he pleasing his dad once more?

I ached for them all.

The awkwardness of life.

The jumbled communication.

The misinterpreted conversations.

And here’s the thing that’s hardest of all. You don’t get a do over. You get a second chance, but in different circumstances and times, but not this one moment. You never get it back.

That’s a lot of pressure, doing it right the first time.