As soon as I saw the orange flowers, I knew I had to get them. They reminded me of the car Dylan liked. He really liked the Nissan 370Z. And it had to be orange. There was never any doubt about the color. He said orange was the only color option for that car.

When we talked about it, I remember telling him he was going to need to save up his money not only to buy the car, but to insure it as well.

I hooked Dylan’s phone up to the bluetooth in my car. A song from Frozen came on automatically. It only reminded me of how young he was.

“I’ll say I love ya I won’t say goodbye.
I’ll say I love ya I won’t say goodbye.
I’ll say I love ya I won’t say goodbye.
I’ll say I love ya I won’t say goodbye.”
Superchunk

Tomorrow night, Superchunk is going to be playing at a small place in Eagle Rock. I would have liked to go, but I have a floor to finish this weekend and nobody to accompany me. Why is this significant? The last show Dylan and I went to was a Superchunk show at the El Rey on September 4, 2013. It was the first time the band had been in town in a long time, and I really liked their new album. I remember when I asked Dylan if he wanted to go with me. He kind of hesitated and said yeah, but I knew he was wondering if I was going to expect him to pay for his ticket. I told him I would get his ticket, and I wanted the company.

When we got there, he commented that it was bigger than he expected. I supposed that was because he didn’t know anybody else that had heard of the band. Colleen Green opened up. We spent most of her set making fun of her drum machine and guitar routine. The songs weren’t bad, but I think she would be better with a full band. We would predict how each song would begin, because they all seemed to have the same or very similar percussive programming.

When the band came on, it took all of a few seconds for me to realize that I wanted use the earplugs I brought. I put them in and Dylan laughed at me with these bright green sponges hanging out of ears. I told him I didn’t give a shit, at least I could hear better. We had fun and he didn’t think the music was that bad either. I told him about how easy he has it now discovering new music. I told him how I discovered this band, and the process I had to go through to buy more of their music. I had to write to their label (that a couple of band members started) and ask them to send me a catalog. After the show, I didn’t really want it to end. We looked around for something near the theater, but found nothing open. I had to work the next morning, so we just headed home.

The shrine that was Dylan’s bedroom has been demolished in our never ending floor remodeling job. What have we done? I hope it was time. It was not easy.

I remember when Dylan chose that nasty green color. I didn’t care for it, but didn’t really fight it. We could always paint it again later — which means Donna and Marisa since I have only painted baseboards in recent years. The subject of painting Dylan’s room had briefly come up a few times as we started this flooring project, and maybe a little before . He wanted red. Like fire engine red, I think. To which both Donna and I said “No!” We finished the wood on the stairs and in the master bedroom before Valentine’s Day, and then everything in our lives just stopped. For a while, I wondered if that stack of wood in the loft and master bedroom would stay there forever. Something got me started. Probably the mess. Although, the house remains a horrible mess with the last 150 square feet ahead, we are getting there. Maybe then, we can roughly approximate some kind of normalcy.

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Recently, I have thought about the night Dylan graduated from high school. I just keep remembering finding him on the field after ceremony, and walking right up to him to give him a big hug. I didn’t want to let him go in that moment, because I knew that things would be different. I didn’t feel ready, but I realized that he had become a man when I noticed how much taller was than I. Perhaps, these thoughts have resulted in this dream I had last night:

Dylan had short hair. It might have had some gel in it, but not much. I would say he was about seven. He was standing in front of a folding table that had an old man sitting on the other side. There were a few papers scattered on the table. Dylan looked like he was wearing a school uniform, but this did not seem to be school related.

With a little encouragement, Dylan walked up to the table and very quietly asked the old man a question. Something about the old man and his words caused Dylan to repeat the question so the old man could hear him, instead of turning to Donna and I who were standing off to the side. The old man’s response was lighthearted and seemed to indicate that whatever Dylan had asked would not be a problem.

All of a sudden, I was in the empty garage of the townhouse we used to own. There might have been a few people around the perimeter of the garage, but Dylan and I were in the middle. When I saw him, I walked up to him and hugged him tight while crying uncontrollably. I said to him, “It has been so long since I have seen you when you were so small.”

This morning, when I walked up to the tree in Heritage park, my eyes filled with tears as this dream from last night came back to me.

When each of my children was born, I had their lives all figured out. Dylan was going to be the physicist that was going to solve the worlds clean energy obstacles. He was also going to front a popular band just for fun. When Marisa was born, she was going to be the chemist to help provide the final pieces needed for the theory Dylan had developed. Oh yeah, she would also be a world famous violinist who would be able to score Donna and I airfare and Carnegie Hall tickets to see her play. Fantasy stuff. I just wanted them to succeed. They could be a doctor, engineer, programmer, accountant, retail clerk, trash man, janitor, ditch digger — a friend. Just so long as they were happy, and grateful for their accomplishments and wiser from their failures. All this, to mention that there are moments in a parents’ life when time stands still and none of those things matter. And nothing can harm you and your family. Everything is just perfect for that moment. For some they are few and far between, I would imagine, but we have been fortunate to have quite a few. Here is one such moment from Dylan’s life.