I am taking a walk through the park with my nine-year-old son. This is something I have meant to do for a while and know that he is very excited about it. He loves to go out and play. I love to watch his face light up as we play. I have avoided this walk, because I do not particularly like to walk, and do not care for the preparations that take place before.No, the truth is, I do not like going for the walk because my son will not stick to my side. I want to walk with him along the paths I took as a child, show him what my father showed me, let him experience theheadiness that I experienced while walking through the park with my father.My son will not do that, you see. He prefers to talk over me, run without warning to something he has seen and wishes to further explore. His spontaneity scares me, for I am not his age, I do not want to run around chasing him, for I know what is out there, and his blatant disregard angers me.
More importantly, he is refusing to learn, to see the things that I want to show him. It lets me know that something is wrong, a disconnect somewhere, so I am going to take a walk through the park with my nine-year-old son, force him to walk by my side and try to understand the things that I want to show him.
I love my son. I want him to see and smell what I show him in the park. I want him to appreciate the red soil as I do, to love the birds and the flowers, to appreciate nature as I do. My father showed me how and I want to take this walk with him, so I may pass this on to him.
It will make me happy and proud. It will help us connect. I can talk to my boy about life and values and things that will prepare him to be a man.
I am taking a walk with my father. He has promised me many times that he will walk with me, however; I can see that he does not really like to do this. I love walking with my father. I love looking up at him, standing as tall as I can and walking like him.
I want to show him that I can walk as fast as he can, can see what he wants me to see. I want to play. I love playing with the other boys at the park. My father does not like it when I do this. He speaks of what is out there, and that he loves and cares for me.
I ‘m confused: My father’s fears are not mine, you see. I am not scared of the strange man staring at us across the park. I see a lonely man who I know lost his wife, his home, his heart. I am not scared of what the other boys may say, for I do not have one leg, I have always been this way and know how to take care of myself.
I am not scared of what my father thinks is strange, because I have a voice inside me that lets me know what is misunderstood. I want to walk with my father. I want to make him happy and proud. I want him to tell me everything that he knows, but I also want to play. I want to go to the flowers that he does not know but we see. I want to climb up the tree that he thinks is too tall for me. I want to sing as loud as I can even though he would prefer I be silent.
I want, I want, I want….to please my father. So today, I am taking a walk with my father in the park, and I will be silent. I have to try… because my father knows what’s best for me.
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