I saw a picture of my grandson that reminded me of the way he likes to be alone. I used to be that way too. I remember sitting out on the rocks in front of Cannery Row finding peace in the sound of the ocean crashing on the big rocks splashing up into the sky and falling back into the foam.
I was the oldest in a chaotic family of 4 siblings. My parents were not happy and there was never a quiet moment. Sitting by the ocean with its rhythmic roar was very different from hearing my parents argue or my siblings constant babble. With a dog, 14 cats, 3 siblings and fighting parents there was never a moment of quiet and then came the television, radio , and phonographs. But by the ocean it was all drowned out, not only from the air but from my mind.
There was always the reentry into the chaos but for a moment I was at peace and one with something bigger than myself, bigger than the goings on around me, just the "isness" of being.
This separateness gave me some comfort, but I really wanted to be part of something. I searched all through my life for the one place I fit in, but at every turn there was someone that wanted my place. Someone who was jelous of what I could do or wanted so badly to do it themselves that they needed to discredit me so they could take over. As I backed down to their greater desire I lost my place over and over until now there is nothing that I want to be a part of.
It took me a long time to give up wanting to be part of something. I wonder if he has given up already.