I went back home for a long weekend recently to see my dad receive an award for years of distinguished service at his workplace. I was very proud of him.
I must admit, however, that the glory of this event was eclipsed in my mind by the fact that, about a month ago, he scared away a man who was breaking into his and my mom's house.
Just by running down the stairs screaming at the top of his lungs.
The dude, who was smashing through the door so violently that he ripped out the frame, turned and fled when he heard my father coming.
Which, I must admit, made me even prouder.
#
Anyhoo, back to the trip. I saw my dad get his award, my heart swelled with pride, it was all good.
I also helped my mom a little bit with running a conference that was going on at the same time, which led me to rediscover a cardinal truth of my life: I will never, never, never be able to keep up with her. Nor will any other living human. I am still sleeping that weekend off. She is already done with the next thing on her plate and on to the next thing after that.
As you might imagine, with parents like these, I frequently feel inadequate. But then I just tell myself, well, somebody in the family has to be the one to sit in the corner chanting "Om Shanti" and giving out neck massages.
It was great to see them. It was great to be home.
