When I Grow Up: Two Out of Three

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Gavin announced today that he wants to be a pilot when he grows up.  Its the first time I have heard him express his desires for the future, aside from wanting a trip to the playground or Grandma and Pappa’s house.  And while I know it will change once, twice, or a dozen times between now and next year, let alone the day he turn 18 or 21, listening to him express dreams, goals, and desires – listening to him talk about the future – makes my heart sing.

Growing up, one of my first aspirations was to be a mommy.  That and a figure skater.  And at least half of those childhood dreams came true.  As I aged, the latter one changed.  Teacher, nurse, astronaut, pharmacologist.  Along with it, though, I always wanted to be a mom.  And, as I became old enough to appreciate the fairy tale wedding and the notion of prince charmings and happily ever afters, I also wanted to be a wife.

Which takes us to today.  I know I should feel lucky – blessed even – that two thirds of my dreams came true.  While I never landed a triple salchow, flew to the moon or discovered medication that would cure cancer, the ones that really matter I got to do.  Got to experience.  And I know through them I will leave my mark on my little part of the world.

I am a mother.  And will be a mother until I die.  I am bringing up our son in a manner I hope his father would be proud of, so our legacy can make his mark on the world too – and perhaps someday fly a plane. 

I was a wife.  I stated my vows, and kept them until death did us part.  I saw that journey through to completion – as long as I possibly could.  I never fell out of love.  There were days I did not like everything about my husband.  But I never did not love him.  And in a society where the divorce rate exceeds the success rate of marriages, few couples can honestly say that.

Kurt and I never really spoke about what we wanted to be as we grew up – not in a meaningful conversation that I recall, anyhow.  I know he never really thought he would be a daddy or a husband, but don’t know if he even dared to dream for it.  I hope he did.  While I know his final career was not the life he had envisioned, I hope he died having met many of his future aspirations as well.  At least two out of three.  I hope he died happy about where he was, what he had, and what he had accomplished. 

I often wonder what the last thing on Kurt’s mind was before that fateful moment.  And while part of me hopes it was of Gavin and the more selfish part hopes it was of me, another part – the part that hopes Kurt was really, genuinely, happy – hopes that the last thing he thought was “I did okay.  I did well.”

Two out of three ain’t bad.