The year was 2013, and my son and I were plotting the day's activities.
Me: George is studying space. Let's make a paper model of the solar system.
Henry: Okay, but it better be completely accurate. None of this, "The sun is the same size as Jupiter" business.
Me: Then the sun would have to be the size of a basketball, and the earth will still be minuscule!
Henry: I will not have a false model in this house!
And so, it started innocently enough, like most things around here. Our love for playing with art and science, and making messes, coupled with a zeal for accuracy that can only be described as Really Nerdy, led to us making our own physical representation of the corner of the universe we call The Solar System.
We finished all of the planets on day one, but the sun had to be just so.
It needed to be big, with rays and flares jutting off in every direction. Painting and gluing and painting tufts of tissue paper over every square centimeter of our orbited star, in our insatiable quest for accuracy, plus having lots of other stuff to do all the time, resulted in the sun taking over a year to finish. But finish, we did.
We finished all of the planets on day one, but the sun had to be just so.
It needed to be big, with rays and flares jutting off in every direction. Painting and gluing and painting tufts of tissue paper over every square centimeter of our orbited star, in our insatiable quest for accuracy, plus having lots of other stuff to do all the time, resulted in the sun taking over a year to finish. But finish, we did.
As I took photos of the result, quick and resilient in my determination to find a reason to gloat, I said, “Well, it taking so long is okay. Now it’s to scale in size and time!”
“No, we’d need a few million years more for that.” Henry said, lancing my puffed up falsehood.
“So then, we’re ahead of schedule!” I landed, sunny side up, triumphantly.
But, what were we going to do with all of these paper orbs? Make them all to scale in size, but then just string’em up on a clothes hanger, letting’em bump into each other like our solar system doesn’t do? No.
No.
They would have to be to scale, in spaaaaace. But how? To the mathematician (aka “Dad”)! Who calculated the physical distance we would have to put between the sun and planets, in order to get some of that sweet sweet accuracy we’re always jonesing for.
The numbers were crunched, and the ‘rithmatic ciphered.
Physical Distance Necessary Between Each Planet and the Sun, To Maintain Accurate Scale
Mercury 26’ (as in FEET)
Venus 48’
Earth 67’
Mars 102’
Jupiter 350’
Saturn 641’
Uranus 1288’
Neptune 2022’
It was determined that we would need to take a family trip to the beach. Great.
I mean, I love to go to the beach with my whole family, and have done it many times since then, but managed to bring along the paper solar system exactly zero times in the three years since that realization. The celestial bodies went into a cabinet and we got on with other things. Many other things for a long time.
But three years is but a blip when talking about the vast stretches possible in time.
So is eighteen, if you’re me, today. Yes, those long days and short years of parenthood have culminated in the best possible scenario: the oldest of the youngest BU students is an alum, graduating, flying the nest, taking the world on, and figuring out what is next for him. He’s left home and he’s going to do great.
That’s right.
Gordian Knot? Anyone?
Dang.
There is a lot of space between e v e r y t h i n g .
Here’s where I should say that, no matter how far my son goes, my home is always his home. Because it is. But it’s not. He wants to be on his way and grow up. It made him happy to plan his adventure, and it made us happy to help him make it possible.
Things ending can be sad, but that sadness is overwhelmed with gratitude for having experienced them in the first place. Saying good-bye, good luck, I love you and require frequent updates with photos and video whenever possible wasn’t easy, but we all know he has more learning to do, in the wider world, within and without. He also has five of his biggest admirers back where he came from, beaming in his general direction.
This is a tale as old as time, but it’s the first time it has happened here.
It feels pretty epic, to use a rarely appropriate term. Like countless mothers before and around me, watching their kids grow up and clock milestones, my mind flashes back to the beginning: discovering I was going to be a mother, hearing his heartbeat, choosing his name, meeting him and looking into eyes. Changing, becoming more like the person he needed me to be, more of the time. I marvel at all the years between then and now. To know a person so well, to value him so dearly, has been my model for how to view others.
He and his parents have taught each other over the years, and now can stand strong in different places, which are actually, relatively close.
After all, when I think about how far the earth is flung out from her sun, it feels like we can never be that far away from each other if we’re on the same planet.
