Among sixty thousand of my closest friends, in an airport two time zones to the east, I found myself standing behind an old friend and her husband.
Now we knew in advance that we’d coincidentally be on cruises that overlapped, both days and ports, but that we wouldn’t actually cross paths. But we didn’t take the comparison far enough to recognize that we’d be on the same flights home. At the gate, we sat to catch up and share “best part of the cruise”. Her quick answer was snorkeling with turtles on Tortuga. She asked about the best part of my trip. I quickly replayed our three stops in my head: Bahamas, where we briefly toured a fancy hotel, then shared lunch and a beer at a local favorite hole-in-the-wall on the beach; St. Thomas where we took a tour of the island, shopped only long enough to tire of cloned jewelry stores, one after another; St. Maarten, owned half by the French, half by The Netherlands, earning it’s “Friendly Island” title with daily anecdotes of a most civilized co-existence.
While St. Maarten had been my favorite port, it wasn’t my favorite part of the trip. I must admit my favorite part of the cruise was living at the periphery of our “family”. Ever see Ice Age? “We’re the weirdest herd I know…..” We acted as a seven-member family for the entire trip, coordinating attendance at trivia, meeting for meals and shows, comparing stories of various excursions, dividing when it came to physical activities and shoppers vs non-shoppers. It wasn’t until I watched their interaction at the airport that I recognized what made it so attractive. The “real” core family shared something that neither my son nor I understand first-hand: Safety-Even-When--Unreasonable.
The first time we cruised with them, it was fun to be part of their family at dinner, to participate in three conversations at once, to tease and push and laugh and listen. That trip was my first experience in such dinners. The son and daughter are a couple years older this trip, but there is a consistency in their interactions. The parents are older too, but consistent in their tolerance of occasional “unreasonable” behavior. The son never misses a chance to worry an over-protective mom. While it’s clear his threats are idle, her heart catches all the same. The daughter takes advantage of princess status, even at twenty two years old with a college degree in Engineering. The incongruence’s made me smile several times a day, and begin to recognize that a little bit of princess is probably healthier than my “tough chick” facade. But as we readied for take-off, I marveled at how safe they each were to be unreasonable. While most of the passengers stowed their items and buckled, the son worried his mom with mystery wounds which she couldn’t see because the daughter insisted on laying across her lap for warmth. My son and I watched the show, with wonder and a loving smirk.
I didn’t grow up with any such tolerance. My sons did not grow up in a place where that kidding would be safe. The emotional tinder of their father smouldered, with an ever-present risk at some “final straw” igniting an inferno. The fire varied, but rarely in relative proportion to the action. That unknown made us all less safe.
While I covet their ability to be SEWU (Safe-Even-When-Unreasonable), our family is more comfortable in our skin than we were. Like me, my sons are on a longer path in their twenties to find love and peace and a fit. Each season they take steps that confirm and define what works, as well as what does not. Each season, they are more defined in their choices for who they are. I am lucky for those changes. They are comfortably safe with me. Whether they share everything or not, they know that they can be honest, can joke, can relax and know my love for them is safe. The next step will be for them to feel safe with each other. For them to occasionally be unreasonable without any permanent scars. For each to know he can depend on the love of his brother. That safety does not yet exist. The oldest needs to recognize his brother prefers a larger social circle and bigger social activities. While he pushes the boundaries of what may be “right”, he is growing and evolving as a twenty-year-old should. The younger needs to tolerate his brother’s longer path to success, recognize his talents of responsibility, allow his interest in science and music and smaller settings of humans.
It is my job as their mom to help them grow into the safety that only a brother can provide. I’ve got a (wo)man on it… and she’s on a mission to establish Maslow’s very first level to growth: safety in the circle of family.
To quote Hillel, the Elder, “And if not now, when?”
