The park in Airport West

Airport West is a suburb of Melbourne, where I'm working for the time being. No family or friends around means I can spend an inordinate amount of time working. However, I take long lunches because my lunchtime is in the same time zone as dinnertime the previous day for my friends and family back home. It's the best time for me to call home, and the only time slot that I can hear from Natalie and Ethan.

Not long ago I found a public park near the plant. It consists of a footy oval, a cricket oval, a community center, and some playground equipment. At lunchtime on weekdays, it's empty. I discovered it one day after deciding, somewhat randomly, that I wanted to wander back through the nearby neighborhoods instead of heading straight back to the plant after a lunchtime sandwich at Nando's. I felt like exploring, but mainly, I just wanted to take my time. There were no pending meetings to go back for, and it was sunny and cool. So I parked in the empty parking lot facing the footy oval, turned the engine off, rolled down the windows, and just let myself be.

It turned out to be one of those deeply existential moments that happen from time to time. You know, those moments where everything becomes vivid, like a lucid dream. The moments that pierce reality and speak directly to your soul. In these moments, you remember in vivid detail the inputs of all your senses, including your state of mind and what was running through it at the time.

So I took it in, recognizing that moments like this were rare. A breeze was blowing. I could hear the sound of cars on the tollway in the distance and the occasional clacking sound of a commuter train on the nearby Cragieburn line. I could see and hear the gum trees around the field swaying with the breeze. I heard the squeaking of the swings in the playground as they also swayed in the breeze. I recall the cognizance of the fact that I was 9000 miles from home. I felt the warm sun on my bare arm, hanging out the car window, as I stared at the somewhat mundane scene in front of me. Then, I vividly imagined Natalie and Ethan, laughing and playing on that empty playground, half a world away from home. I heard their voices, laughs, and shrieks of joy. For a moment I hugged them and held them close, feeling their little bodies against mine, then putting my hands on their little heads, feeling their hair and then letting them go again to play on the playground. I smelled the scent of the shampoo in their hair, I saw their bright, pure smiles. At that moment I loved them and missed them more than I ever had before. My daughter, and my son.

I know they will grow up. I know they will live their own lives, carve their own paths, account for their own successes and failures. They will listen to me and ignore me, love me and hate me. They will ask why and why not. They will want to know what happened, and what didn't happen. They will think, they will feel, they will remember. They will question, they will conclude, then they will question again.

I can't dictate or force any of that. Like that moment in the park, I can just be. I can lay down a few rules and answer a few questions. But most importantly, I can love and treasure them for being here with me, right now, sharing the journey.

If I died tomorrow, a lot would be left undone. But I could sleep happy, if my children knew and understood how their Daddy felt about them, how deeply he loved them, that day in the park in Airport West, half a world away.