The Friend

Early into my journey as a Dad, I realized there’s a bittersweet constant that comes with being a parent; it’s a lifetime of goodbyes.

Just as you say ‘hello’ to your child’s first step, you also say ‘goodbye’ to the days where they would scoot around on the floor. You say ‘hello’ to their first word as you say ‘goodbye’ to their days of baby talk.

When you look back at the photos of your child, it’s hard not to think “how did it all happen so fast?” as you see pictures of a child that seems so much younger than the grown child you now have. It goes fast, it really does.

A few months ago, Atlas and I were playing in our front yard when a little boy came riding his bike up the street. He stopped to introduce himself to Atlas, and the two of them hit it off instantly. That afternoon, I watched the two of them chase each other in circles around our driveway with their bike/big wheel.

It wasn’t long until Atlas convinced his new friend to tie a rope around his bike, while they attempted to secure it to Atlas’ big wheel. Why? Because Atlas wanted a ride. Looking back on it, it was an incredibly comical sight. Eventually, I had to step in and stop the fun, because it seemed like somebody was going to get hurt – and it was more than likely his friend in the bike…

The next day, Atlas and I were inside the house when we heard the doorbell ring. Lo and behold, it was his new friend – asking if Atlas wanted to play. Atlas was ecstatic. He didn’t just have a new playmate – he had a friend.

As time went by, I began to let go of my helicopter-parent tendencies, and trust the boys to play together without having line-of-sight supervision, as I usually do. For example, they would play in his room while I stayed in the kitchen to do dishes, or go up to his playroom above the garage while I worked outside in the yard. They never burned the house down, and I finally had time to clean it. Everybody won.

I eventually learned that his family was living a few houses down, sharing a home with one of their relatives, while their new home was being built about 20 minutes away. It saddened me to know that the time would be short-lived.

His friend always seemed to knock on the door at just the right moment; usually when I was in need of a break from parenting – which was routinely an answer to prayer – and other times, at moments when Atlas was on the verge of doing something cool, and needed somebody other than me to share the moment with.

On Atlas’ birthday, I got him an incredibly unconventional present; an octopus and a squid. They weren’t stuffed plush toys – they were real, straight from the fish counter at Central market. The octopus weighed about two pounds and measured over a foot long, while the squid was small enough to fit in my hand. While Atlas was with me when I bought them, I had to wait nearly two days to give them to him because he was with ‘the other party’.

On his birthday, Atlas chose to spend the night with me. Excitedly, I drove him home and told him it was finally time to play with the octopus. Words can’t describe his excitement. As soon as we pulled into the garage, he ran straight inside (and I mean, ran) and got himself ready at the kitchen counter to begin his examination of his new creatures.

No sooner had he sat down, we heard the doorbell ring. Excitedly, he ran to the door to see who it was. It was his friend!

Looking down at him, I told him “You just came at the most interesting time. Atlas was just about to play with an octopus and a squid.”

“Are you serious?!”

Atlas excitedly ran over to the counter to show his friend the two oceanic creatures, stretched across a baking sheet and ready for dissection, as his friend exclaimed:

“This is better than my wildest dreams!”

For over two hours, they examined, dissected and played with the octopus and the squid, quickly removing the beaks and discovering the ink sacs in each, to which I quickly grabbed paintbrushes and sheets of paper.

In no time at all, the two of them began painting on the paper using the ink.

It was a sight. It was a smell. And it was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had with Atlas.

By the time they were done, every inch had been dissected, from the beaks to the brains. It was a massacre in the best sense of the word. It was also the best $26 I’ve spent in my life.

As time went by, I watched the two of them develop a close friendship. They would play, share toys, explore the yard and play music in the living room togeher; one would be on the drum set, while the other would play guitar and sing on the microphone.

While their little rock bands turned the house into a loud, chaotic scene, the two of them couldn’t have been happier to play and make ‘music’ together. The noise never bothered me, either. I was simply happy to see the two of them happy and enjoying their time together.

Yesterday, I heard a familiar knock at the door – followed by the doorbell – and went to see his friend, who asked if Atlas was home to play. Sadly, I told him that he wasn’t available but would be back on Wednesday (tomorrow) to play.

“Oh.” he said “Well, we’ll be moved out by then.”

I let him know that Atlas would be sure to visit, and that I’d tell him he had stopped by before he left, before I closed the door.

When the door closed, I realized how much I was going to miss hearing the doorbell ring, seeing Atlas run to say hello, and watching the two of them trot off to play together. As I write this, I’ll admit that I’m not entirely sure how I’ll break the news to Atlas in the morning when he gets dropped off, and that’s really hard.