Conversation of a father and his son, a boy, growing, into, man, little, by little, every single, day, translated…
Summer: as I rode on the bus, something came up, wrote this down——— “The Skies Turned to that Shade of Light Blue, My Heart Turned to Blue as Well, Looking out the Bus’s Window, the Raindrops Made the Ordinary Skies, that Much More, Interesting, Looking at the Rain Now, I’m, Keying This Article Here: “The Vine that Coiled Around the Light Poles, Like the Entanglements of Our, Hearts, Can’t Be, Sorted Through. Life is like that Wire, in those Countless Light Poles, Entanglements Simply, Can’t be, Avoided………”
I: Summer, Waking up in the morn, reading those beautiful words of yours, so elegant. Your words do have the feel to them, and it’d, become, more mature compared to your childish statements of the past. I think, you’re, growing up by the day. What you’d written “the Entanglement of the Vines and the Light Poles”, is exactly where you currently are, mixed up, tangled in. Using that heart of yours, to feel the nutrients from this age of your life, and turned them into, your own, story.
The conversation from above, happened in my Family group on LINE. A conversation that happened in the texts. Because it happened on the platform of LINE, with the convenience of technologies, it’d, precisely, documented the conversations we’d shared, the dates, the contents, around last Christmas, the time I rode out on the buses with him.
In the year that’s come to past, this is probably, the most thoughtful words written my Summer in the Family group of LINE. And because of the passage that he’d penned down, I think, it’s time—Summer is, a full-grown, TEENAGER.
From time to time, I’d, wondered, when did the young men realize, that they’re, in their, adolescence?
That part of me, I’d, forgotten, but I’m, guessing, that in the community buses, Summer had, written this passage, which I presume, that it’s, the start of his, adolescence. Why? Because the skies in the adolescent’s eyes aren’t, so crystal clear anymore, the thoughts turned gloomy, as he’d watched the rain drizzled down, he’d, started, typing………if it were me at age fourteen, this time, riding the bus, with the grayed colored skies, it’s, the best time for slumber. And, the entanglements of the vines onto the light poles, that’s, more than, natural, isn’t it a part of, nature’s ways? Whether it be the light poles that wrapped around the vines, or the other way around, it’s all, matter-of-fact, and, what was he feeling, gloomy about?
Naturally, my thought about what he’d penned down, that’s, a sort of a retrospect, a retrospect of youth, on the way to school on the bus, the light poles of life, hadn’t the entanglements of the vines on them, as for wasting the youths away, entering into work, no matter if it’s rainy or sunny, we’d all, gotten, STRUCK by the electricity from the lightning.
I think, my adolescent years started, later. So, let me put it this way, in describing the younger generations now: “the youths of these days, matured, too, easily!”
I clearly recalled, how Summer’s words aroused something inside of me as I’d read it, how moved I was. The young man, used his honesty, to hold a conversation with me in written language. For this, I feel, a bit, proud, felt like a father with a child, who’s also, turned into, a friend.
The above are the, better parts, and, unfortunately, it won’t, last long, I suppose. The months that followed, I’m, hitting my midlife years, the skies also, turned to, that shade of blue, with the gloom, overshadowing, and my thoughts became, easily, anxiety stricken. Because as I’d discovered, now, I should be what Summer described, of the “light poles”, with those vines, wrapped around me, so the youth’s life can, continue on, while I stay, in the starting stage of, my own, empty, nest.
My child’s puberty had, begun, so wonderful. The shots are fired, to start my son off running, in that race where life got started……as a father, guess, I should, learn from my own teenage son, type those words with crystal clear thoughts, leaving my own message on the Family’s LINE.
And so, this father realized, that his own son is, growing up, and, it’s still, NOT that big a shock, I mean, it’s, bound to happen, they’re growing up, faster, faster, and faster by the day, and, the maturity of thought is what’s clear now, in this young lad’s mind, marking, his own, growth.
Life, the Obstacle Course 