Love The One You’re With
A former neighbor and dad friend popped into my head the other day. Not sure why I thought of him, yet later it was revealed to me when my wife said, scrolling her social media feeds, “Guess who had another baby?”
I paused and thought. Who had a lot of babies already? Then it came to me—the former neighbor friend.
“Is the ______’s?” I said.
“Yes!” my wife said. “How did you guess?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking of him the other day for some reason. We had gone to the batting cages together years ago.”
My mind does that sometimes—dips into the subconscious and picks up on synchronicities.
“They’re really into baseball,” she said, still scrolling. “Looks like J—, their oldest, is on a Little League team. He’s our son’s age.
“I don’t doubt it. They’re a super athletic family,” I said.
“Can’t believe it’s their fourth kid,” my wife said.
“I can,” I said. “They’re—prolific.” It was the only word I could think of.
“I wonder if they like it where they live?” my wife said.
“Yeah, they upgraded from here. They have a pool. The kids go to private Catholic school,” I said.
Like flipping a page in the newspaper, she moved on to the next thing in her feed, but my mind went on a little trip.
Why don’t my sons play baseball? I mean, they haven’t even found their thing yet. And why don’t we have a pool? Or send our kids to private Catholic school.
And then it hit me: because we are not the ______’s, and it it’s senseless to compare ourselves to them. They are a baseball Catholic school family, and we are adventurers and mystics.
And is one better than the other?
No. Our family and social groups are formed this way for a reason, to create contrast on the tapestry of humanity. It’s the threads between us that keep it strong.
We can’t all be the same, otherwise our population would cease.
I quickly stopped thinking about the _____’s and turned to the people I am with, loving them. Love the one’s I’m with.
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Photo by Patrick Jansen on Unsplash