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What Goes Around Comes Around

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The Tampa Tribune

Published: February 11, 2009

My son's comment during a recent telephone conversation brought me up short. Both years (he's 43, I'm 67) and miles (he lives in Atlanta, I'm in Florida) separate us, yet we came together in a special moment I will always remember.

When our son - fulltime father, husband, son and professional, whose time is crowded with deadlines, obligations and hard work - calls, we relish the conversations. The sharing and caring connects us in a special way.

"Hang on a minute," I said excitedly as I headed from the kitchen to my husband's office. "Let me get Dad, too."

"Oscar," I yelled. "It's Andy!"

"Gee, Mom," Andy said with a smile in his voice, "You sound just like Grandma calling Grandpa to the phone."

And the floodgates opened. I was an exact echo of my mother when I used to call her. I'd say, "Hi Mom," and she would say excitedly, "Hold on! Mick, come to the phone. It's Judy." Obviously Andy remembered hearing the same excitement in her voice when he had called her.

I had no idea what the calls must have meant to my parents. I do now. I had no understanding of how validating it can be when an adult child is curious and interested in what his parents are doing. I understand now.

But what amazed me most of all about the moment was realizing that my son had taken my place and was standing in my old shoes. That means he had grown up and I am growing old that he had become me even as I was becoming my mother.

A pattern emerged and I loved understanding it.

The common memory felt like a glue binding one generation to the next. At the moment Andy spoke, I understood with great clarity what it felt like to be both my mother and my son.

I said nothing to my son about what had just happened. But the shared moment and memory bridged all the years between past and present, and the insight felt wonderful. My calls to my folks had proffered an unspoken love, a concern and caring that was nourishing. My son was offering the same.

Our conversation was fast and fun. We shared the day's events, caught up on news and ended as always with "Love you." He was racing home for dinner, and we were resting from a day of meetings and activities.

The link between generations has lingered in a warm and reassuring way. Unknowingly, Andy reconnected me with my mother. Such an ordinary instant, and from so long ago. We never know the moments that will become memories, do we?

E-mail Judy Kramer at JudyandOz@tampabay.rr.com.

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