Cats in the Cradle

I love music from the 1960s and 1970s. It reminds me of my childhood. I listened to this music growing up with my parents. Listening to music with my parents is one of my happiest memories of childhood. There was something about the music that brought peace to our environment. It did not matter if we were at home or in the car. When the music was on, everyone got quiet. As an adult, I realize now that I loved the music often without really listening to the words.

Now thanks to the technology of Amazon Alexa, I can play a song I want and hear the clarity of the words as I read them on the screen. Wow, when you listen to the words, it can catch you off guard. I listened to Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin the other day and again this morning. It brought me to tears. It hit me in the heart. I called my mom yesterday and she said, “you never call me.” I thought about how busy I feel and this morning it hit me; I had grown up just like her. Working all the time. Busy all the time.

As a parent, I look at my kids and I see both sides of the situation. Goodness, I want so badly to change the dynamic. I do not want my kids to live this way. This is not just because selfishly I hope they will make more time for me. It is also because I know what it is like to struggle to get work done and to pay the bills; to try to get ahead. The sad part is when I die my college degrees, my jobs, my job titles, my accomplishments…they won’t be what people think about when they think of me and they sure will not be what I think about as I walk toward the next stage of eternity.

I will be thinking about my relationships. I will be thinking about the love in my life. I will be holding my hands over my heart trying to guarantee I can carry that love with me into the next life. I will wish I had more time. More time with my parents; more time with my children; more time with those I love and have loved in my lifetime. The picture of the cute little boy driving his first vehicle is my son. It is my son when his Dad last got to see him; hug him; the last time they talked in person and played together in the yard.

“When you comin’ home Dad? I don’t know when. But we’ll get together then. You know we’ll have a good time then. We’re gonna have a good time then.” THEN may never come. All we have is NOW. Life is short.

Wishing you more time,

Nikola Rosa