Re-do This Year With One Last Do-Over

Photo is Cathy and Aaron, Christmas day 2004.

The note on my computer says "Today is December 31, 2005". Tomorrow we start a new year. If given a choice, I'd like to start an old year. A "do-over" or "re-do" as Aaron and Patrick used to refer to second chances.

Each January 1, I wonder to myself "What big event will happen during the year?" Something will be an explanation point on the year. When the big event happens, and it always does, we know it. The it is typically something that will get it's own mention in the next printing of history books. Books will be written about it, maybe movies or HBO specials will explore the events surrounding it. The nation or world will share in understanding it.

When the it, is personal, the world goes on and a few people sit wounded by the wayside. Music continues to be written, jokes are made, inventions come to market, football games still matter to someone, and on and on. The persons who are injured watch and remember.

Today is a day of strange vibes. I wonder if it has something to do with leaving Aaron in 2005 where he will be 18 forever? Already too much has happended and Aaron would be surprised by the changes in the world he left in May.

When he was a little boy Aaron used nearly every car ride as an opportunity to frustrate his brother, mother, and father to the edge of patience and beyond. More than once I pulled over to offer him the opportunity to travel on his own to our destination. One evening in Ripon, Aaron was probably 12, I extricated him from the back seat and set him on the sidewalk. I can still see Aaron in my rear view mirror as I drove as far from him as I could...about a half of a block, stopped the car and let him back in. That was a half a block further than Cathy could tolerate. Leaving Aaron in the dark and swirling snow was not within Cathy's concept of rational parenting. Aaron was granted a do-over and he made the last mile or so to our destination with no more trouble. A little surprised that I would drive away, Aaron probably voiced his objection to my stunt. Patrick, who saw me once pour oatmeal over Aaron's head, would have been the only child detered from ever repeating one of Aaron's actions. Aaron likely thought "That was wierd, what will he do next?"

The year 2005 started with great promise and died with great sorrow too early. Can we have a do-over just this once? I'll stop the world and let you back in son. You left the world and became a memory whenI know you'd prefer to be a young man.

Living in the present; with the past tugging at my heart,

Aaron's Dad