It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself.
~Joyce Maynard
~Joyce Maynard
Happy 57th Anniversary to, Fred and Clara Uechi, a couple of my most diligent and most improved yoga students, who also happen to be my parents.
Fred was born in Kohala and Clara was born in Kona. They met, wed and bred two children in Honolulu before returning to the Big Island where two more were born. They've been parents for a very long time!
I've written about a few of the lasting gifts my mother and my father have given me and seriously wonder if I would be able to lay claim to the happy life I now have, had I been born to any other couple. As the mother of an adult child, I've begun to observe my own parents through my non-dominant eye, the one that's controlled by my right brain.
Yesterday, when my son, his wife and their dog left after an overnight stay, I began to anticipate their next visit even before they reached the main road. Then I thought about my folks and the miles between them and my three younger brothers. Spread out over the continent, one lives in San Francisco, one in Las Vegas, and the youngest in New Jersey. Is it easier to say "goodbye" when you have four children rather than just one? Do you get used to it, the older you get? Probably not.
I can see the strong ties that my parents have erected, they insure connection but are never used to pull or drag. As I observe, I learn, and I think my son is watching.
Fred was born in Kohala and Clara was born in Kona. They met, wed and bred two children in Honolulu before returning to the Big Island where two more were born. They've been parents for a very long time!
I've written about a few of the lasting gifts my mother and my father have given me and seriously wonder if I would be able to lay claim to the happy life I now have, had I been born to any other couple. As the mother of an adult child, I've begun to observe my own parents through my non-dominant eye, the one that's controlled by my right brain.
Yesterday, when my son, his wife and their dog left after an overnight stay, I began to anticipate their next visit even before they reached the main road. Then I thought about my folks and the miles between them and my three younger brothers. Spread out over the continent, one lives in San Francisco, one in Las Vegas, and the youngest in New Jersey. Is it easier to say "goodbye" when you have four children rather than just one? Do you get used to it, the older you get? Probably not.
I can see the strong ties that my parents have erected, they insure connection but are never used to pull or drag. As I observe, I learn, and I think my son is watching.