As I stood in line Sunday morning at Strabucks, I took took notice of the man in front of me. This is a habit of mine. I do more than a quick glanceover to the person in front of me on a line, I study them, I listen to their conversations. I check for a wedding ring, try to see if they are wearing socks, who designed their bags, etc. and then I try to figure out if they seem happy, and if so what they have done differently than I did to achieve that.
This particular man was not very well groomed, his neck needed shaving, his hair was too long and without lines, his clothes were shabby: stained, ill fitting jeans, paint stained workboots, and maybe a torn t-shirt representing his favorite beer. A wedding ring. I heard him speaking to one of the baristas behind the counter, and he is apparently expecting his first child with his wife. He was so excited. It is going to be a boy. Then he started saying how afraid he was, that his new son might end up a derelict one day just like he was/is. I appreciated his honesty and forthrightness about this. I think those of us who did not have perfect childhoods, messy adoleecence, lacking ivy league degrees, feel this way about our offspring but so few are afraid to vocalize it. To give it a voice. To say, hey, I wasn't perfect, I'm still not, and now I am bringing another person in this world and I have no idea how to prevent history from repeating itself.
But you should have seen the sh-t eating grin on his face when he talked about his wife and un-born baby. Pure joy. I don't remember feeling that way when I got pregnant and married (yes, in that order). I can only remember the fear. Was I doing the right thing, was I old enough, smart enough, loving enough to raise a child? I have that same fear as the days wind down and I need to discuss with AH my plans. I have decided to buy a two-family house with my parents to help out my mom with my dad. She can help with La Petite and I willnot have to rent. I will still own something. It is a win-win situation.
But that fear, is something that always haunts me. Fear of making another bad decision and the ramifications that will follow in its path. But the funny thing is, if you were staning behind me in a line at Strabucks, you would never know it.