Steven quit paddling after his heart was broken by an ankle injury just prior to Junior World Trials. He had been doing so well; he was finally in a place where he felt that his hard work had finally compensated for all of the natural talent that he completely lacked. I pretty much forced him to stay with it, to my regret, until finally his coach had him sit me down and tell me he hated it and was only doing what I wanted.
Steven couldn't get far enough away from that boathouse. For years he had nothing good to say about the club or anyone in it. I stopped asking him if he wanted to go for a paddle, he sold his boat, and I thought it was behind him forever.
Yesterday, my son asked me if I wanted to go out for a paddle with him! Of course I said yes. I felt like I would cry as he climbed up to the top rack to pull down the dusty boat of an old friend, and screwed his paddle back together while trying to figure out how the twist should be.
Eventually we through our boats up on our shoulders and carried them down to the water's edge. The dock had been moved, so we climbed in from the shore and took off. I was proud and impressed as I watched my
wonderful son glide past me on the water. His balance is still good. 'Where do ya wanna go, Mom?" We decided to go under the bridge and turn in the opposite direction of the course. "Lots of boats out today, Mom. Let's go out toward the island." Of course, anywhere is fine with me. I'm just enjoying being out on the water with my wonderful son, and I'm enjoying doing this activity with him that we did so often so long ago. I smile just a little as I think back about the conversations we had about math, or girls, or his crappy car. He has no idea how much I treasure this moment, and I'm not going to tell him.
Maybe later.
So, we have a date to paddle again Tuesday morning. It's early, so I'm thinking he may be out of it. We'll see. At least we had last evening.
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