Despite my hopes for a pleasant day with my oldest grandson, I realised rather quickly that our planned outing to the golf course was going to be strained.
The day started out well enough as I awoke to the aroma of breakfast being prepared in the kitchen. Nathaniel had prepared french toast using the day old french bread I had on hand for just that purpose. He completed the meal with sides of sausage and strawberries topped with fresh whipped cream along with coffee which he has only recently begun to enjoy. Our breakfast was interupted by a call from his brother, Aaron. The converstion quickly became heated and he took his cell into another room to carry on his discussion beyond the hearing of his old gramps. The only thing I caught before he left the room beyond the rather caustic greeting he gave his brother was, "I know what dad wants, he's just not getting it, that's all."
When he returned to the table he was followed by a dark cloud which would not dissipate before he left for home in the late afternoon. He picked at his culinary masterpiece, hardly eating at all, slopped coffee on the table and refused to speak when I asked what was troubling him. I know that he is working through something, most youngsters his age are. I am simply at a loss as to what it may be.
We worked together cleaning up after breakfast and headed out to the golf course. I suggested that maybe we do something else since golf really isn't his game, but he insisted that he wanted to go. By the time we arrived at the course I thought that perhaps his mood was improving. I can be so very wrong at times when evaluating an individual's state of mind.
The course we played is an old public course origionally built as a nine hole. The back nine were added several years later and there is a significant difference in play between the front nine and the final nine holes. It was for this reason that I chose this particular course, the front nine being a much easier game than one would find elswhere. Considering that Nate hasn't really developed his game I thought it would be more enjoyable for him.
On most days That may well have been the case, but his game today was simply terrible. His stance was off, his drives were irratic and and his putting game was beyond poor. I am sure that this was largely the result of the minset he brought to the course with him. There was definately something on his mind.
Our conversation was strained at best, being limited largely to one or two word responses to queries about what has gotten into him. I tried not to press him too hard, but as the morning passed it became more and more difficult to watch him. My game suffered as well as my focus was elsewhere. He displayed uncharacteristic frustration over his play and became visibly angry when he would miss a short putt. Still he would not discuss anything of substance with me. Once we completed the ninth hole he was eager to return home.
On the way home we stopped at the cafe I often mention in my writings for a bit of lunch. Once seated he began to talk a bit, apoligised for his behavior on the course and I thought we were beginning to put the days difficulties behind us and be able to enjoy the rest or our time together as we are accustomed. It wasn't to be however. By the time we left he had once again withdrawn deep within himself to that dark place I could not fathom existed prior to this day.
When we arrived at home he ask me a rather startling question. "Gramps, why didn't you come say goodnight last night before you went to bed?" I had no idea that my ritual of peeking in on him had been such an important part of his spending the night at my home. I told him, "I just realised that you are no longer a little boy, you are becoming a man and don't need your old gramps checking in on you."
"But that's just it gramps. I am still a little boy and I do need you checking in and saying goodnight." he said with tears flowing from his eyes. 'I don't want to be a man yet!"
I was flabbergasted to say the least. I was hoping though that this might lead to greater revelations into what was on the boy's mind. But as suddenly as he opened up, he shut down again and the rest of the afternoon was spent in relative silence. I am not one given to worry overmuch, but I am concerned.
By the time his mother arrived to pick him up I was experiencing a level of frustration I seldom have known. I wanted to take a few minutes to chat, but Nathaniel was eager to leave so I let it drop.
