Posted by Charlie, under NOTEBOOK

I write too much about the present and the past. I’m stuck here, most days, too tired to dip into the future. So, I’m making this post an exercise in time travel. Sometimes, I look into my sons’ eyes and see moments we haven’t yet had. It’s thrilling. And terrifying.

I snapped at Finn tonight enough to make me pause. I’m not proud of it. Too many times politely requesting he brush his teeth. It was totally worth getting slightly heated about it, right? Every moment I make with him feels like a pebble kicked over a cliff’s edge. I can hear the memory ricochet down the walls of his mind and echo throughout. I wonder how he’ll develop and who he’ll grow up to be.

Then, I come back to the present moment and realize there are still pajamas to put on and books to read. “Now” is begging we press on.

But if I let my mind wander, there is a place between my dreams and waking. It whispers memories to come. I can almost hear what my eldest son might say to me about 30 years from now…

EXT. BACK PORCH – DAY

It’s summer and two men, one older than the other, stand on a porch overlooking a small grassy area. The modest barbecue operation before them is in full swing. The elder man, CHARLIE, drink in hand, tilts his head at the younger man, FINN.

ME

Sit down, bug.

FINN

(to himself)

It’s so strange you still call me that.

Finn sits on wooden a chair that’s seen better days.

ME

You’d be surprised how old I think you are. I still get the urge to tickle you.

FINN

Yeah, you never stopped with those bony fingers. But you’d think a guy with a few kids would keep track of that stuff.

ME

That’s why I have you boys. To remind me. All the time. About how grown up you are. Senility has its perks.

Charlie takes a sip.



FINN

Math was never your strong suit, was it?

ME

No. I stuck to war reporting about you kids.

Pregnant pause.

FINN

I never asked you why you did that.

ME

Are you going to now?

Finn smiles.

FINN

No. I’ll let it wait a few more years.

ME

Spoiler alert: I wanted to journal about my thoughts as you grew up.

FINN

Really? Because some of that stuff was pretty personal. Like my bowel movements.

ME

(beat)

I know. There can be a blurry line between honesty and common sense.

FINN

Did it help you? Writing like that?

ME

No. Not always. It entertained me, mostly, to talk about stuff I thought was stressful or ridiculous. You know, parenting is just so fucking hard sometimes. Even with amazing boys like you. It was more about my own faults and trying to find a key to unlocking it through words. There were a couple times I felt better after I wrote. A few times I felt more scared. But mostly I just liked the creative feeling it gave me.

FINN

I get that. But the audience probably expected something from you. You didn’t feel like you had to keep giving them more of it? All two of your readers.

ME

You mean in being personal and opening things up? Nah. I wanted to challenge my own cowardice about being honest. The problem with that is you end up with casualties in privacy. Even if it’s in front of way more than two people. Five.

FINN

Like when you wrote about your sex life with Mom.

ME

Like when I wrote about my sex life. Yeah. That.

Charlie looks at his grandkids for a moment and then stares into his son.

ME

I think I just needed to tell you boys that I loved you and wanted that documented somewhere permanent. For as lasting as love feels, when people are gone… that love feels thinner. My dad was gone before you were born and that was hard. I wanted to state for the record that my love was even deeper because of how hard it was being a parent. That my love will always outweigh that hardship. That you are my greatest achievement.

FINN

You know I love you, right?

ME

It’s one of the pillars I stand on, Finnegan.