Ibn's blog

When my son Vidar was 4 years, I happened to tell him he would probably move into a place of his own in the distant future. This really provoked him, and he told me he would never do such a thing. A more experienced parent would have answered something along the lines of: "Of course you won't, dear." But since Vidar is my eldest son, I said no such thing.

What I did, was try to explain that he will feel differently in the future. He could stretch that to building another house in our (quite large) garden, somewhere. The argument went back and forth for quite a while, until I realized that the idea probably made him feel insecure. So I changed my tune, and said: "Of course you can live with us as long as you want to."

Two years later, Vidar moved out to a tent on our lawn during a couple of summer weeks. Ever since then, he has been making diverse experiments of moving, every now and then. I haven't got the faintest clue if this has to do with our age old argument abount moving out, but I must say that I think he is working on maturing at an astonishing rate.

Now, when I hold my baby Sylvia in my hand, I find that I am curious about what she will be like when she grows up. Will she be anything like Henning or Vidar? Or will she be completely different? Will she be obnoxious, cute, angry, nice, free thinking, violent, intellectual, or anything else that I can't for my forsee? I am so very curious!

And I'm so very afraid!

Most of all, I'm afraid I won't be around to see it all. I'm afraid of dying from any of a number of causes, likely and unlikely.

Last summer, however, my grandmother Kerstin finally died. She was 93 years, and was talking a lot about not having reasons to live. I have met a lot of elderly people, both professionaly (I have been working as a pastor, as well as with home care) and friends and relatives. They all have different stories, and different views on death. Some are tired of living, others don't want to die if they live to be 150 years. It's all very diverse.

Myself, I can't forsee that I will ever stop being curious about what will happen next. But the same way that I know my children will most likely mature enough to want to move away from home, sometime in the undecided future - I know that I am probably going to be ripe for the plucking too, one day. I just can't understand it.