Picked up Michael Chabon’s “Telegraph Avenue” at the airport for my 4+ hours of unexpected bonus flying. Passage from page 10, as a soon-to-be new father is contemplating fatherhood:
"Except it would never be over … You never would get through to the end of being a father, no matter where you stored your mind or how many steps in the series you followed. Not even if you died. Alive or dead or a thousand miles distant, you were always going to be on the hook for work that was neither a procedure nor a series of steps but, rather, something that demanded your full, constant attention without necessarily calling on you to do, perform or say anything at all … Fathering imposes an obligation that is more than your money, your body or your time. A presence neither physical nor measurable by clocks: open-ended, eternal and invisible, like the commitment of gravity to the stars."
I’ve never tried to put words to the feeling of fatherhood so exactly, but yes, that’s it totally.
My kids were supposed to fly home from Florida as unaccompanied minors today. Got to the airport and found out that because of a weather advisory in Ohio, they can’t fly alone. Airline policy. Too many uncertainties. I get it.
But: For reasons not worth explaining, the kids HAVE to be home today and if they don’t make this flight they’re not back until tomorrow night. Plus: I don’t have a hotel room for them here so it’d be an another additional cost. So: I bought a walk up ticket and I’m flying with them. Then I turn back around and go back to Orlando on the same plane. Cost: insanely expensive. But I somehow avoided crazy security screening.
The things we do. The things we do.