I spent the weekend with my son Alex in his world. I flew out to Houston from Los Angeles to just hang out and do whatever he wanted. Last Saturday afternoon, he invited me to "go to the Bayou" on our bikes. I noticed that he took off without his helmet, so I brought my cell phone in case "an emergency developed." Being his dad, I wanted to contribute to his safety and well-being, but have come to appreciate that parenting is all about taking calculated risks. I also wanted to capture the moment, so I brought my camera.I laughed to myself at how "complicated" things were for me trying to keep up with him -- literally -- as he sped away on his bike, and I juggled my cell phone and camera while riding my bike. I know there's a lesson in there for me... I felt a couple of water drops on my skin, and asked Alex if he felt some too. He plainly said: "Don't worry, Dad" and kept pedaling faster.
When we got to the bayou, I was surprised to find an intersection of 3 creeks, and concrete platforms on at least two sides that were visible to me. It turns out that word got out that we were headed there, so several of his friends showed up on their mountain bikes, one on a dirt-bike motorcycle, and another on an ATV (all terrain vehicle). They were riding down and up a steep hill as fast as they could.
I must admit that my anxiety rose as my protective fatherly instincts kicked in. I was telling myself things like "he's going to split his head open," "he's going too fast", "I should have made him put his helmet on." I acknowledged my concerns and connected to my desire to contribute to his safety, and remembered the goal was to have a little fun and connection in our shared experience. I've taught him as much about safety as I knew, now it's up to him to implement it. So, I got my camera out and shot some video of him and his friends going up/down the hills.
On the top of the next hill, I discovered a whole new dimension to this area which was not visible from the other side. Another creek and another set of hills with trails became visible, and I heard their invitation to ride them. I went for it -- down hill at full speed, leaning back on my bike so I wouldn't flip over, and after reaching the bottom, putting my full weight into pedaling uphill. Yeah!
I was exhilarated to be there, and I could tell from their faces that the boys were equally "stoked" to be in the adventure of it all. Then, all of a sudden, as if the sky had opened up, a bunch of water started falling on us.
I announced that "we should go now", but my son was way ahead of me, on his way up the first hill and on his way back home. The rest of us started to panic as the dirt paths were starting to get slippery. I biked down the side with concrete, which meant biking through the creek for a bit, then back up the first hill. Alex was way ahead, nearing the opening to the street; I did my best to catch up.
I was soaked within seconds. Everything was soaked, including my water-resistant camera case and my cell phone case. Little puddles were forming at the edges of the street, and I was smilling the whole time. I let out a couple of yells on my way home: "Whoah!"
By the time I caught up to my son, I realized it was pointless to rush inside. So, I invited him to play in the rain for a bit. We grabbed a dodge ball out of the garage and bounced it back and forth on the puddles of water forming in the front of the driveway. I asked Alex if he had ever played in the rain before. He said "no". We kept tossing the ball back and forth. Until I eventually started to feel cold, and he was ready to go inside for a hot shower.
But first, we took a couple of pictures so we could bask in the memory of another adventure together. Like all the others, the pictures are a reminder of the connection that we share, which transcends our time between visits and the distance between us. That's worth writing about...
