“Whatever it is you might think you have
You have nothing to lose
Through every dead and living thing
Time runs like a fuse
And the fuse is burning
And the earth is turning.”
— Jackson Brown
The bond between mother and child is written into biology. Cells from a fetus migrate into a mother’s bloodstream, where they settle in her heart, brain, liver, and even her bones. The bond between mother and child is far more intense than anything a father can truly experience.
Our son Maxwell will graduate this week from Triton. He started school at Salisbury Elementary, where he met the best friends he will ever have. He was lucky enough to grow up on a cul-de-sac with Red Ridge Farm at the end of it, at the farm lived twin brothers, Ian and Alex Warcewicz, who, even though Max has a much older brother, Joe, and two sisters, Hannah and Sarah, the twins became as close as brothers.
Alex, who Max became especially close with, can look at him and understand exactly what he’s thinking. They became teammates in flag football and youth basketball. They ran through the woods surrounding Bayberry Lane, rode their ATVs up and down the street, camped in those woods, and discovered ancient graves from the smallpox camps that once existed where we built our homes.
Max learned about life from the birth of calves to the death of cows at the Warcewicz farm. Alex and Max drank their first beers together, learned how to bust chops, and supported one another through heartbreak. They became, as they would say, thick as thieves.
Whenever I questioned Alex about what he and Max were up to, Alex had a genius way of avoiding anything that might get his best friend into trouble. I never pressed him too hard because I respected the loyalty he showed his friend. Alex is the kind of friend we all wish we had loyal, generous, and effortlessly cool. He taught Max what a brother is and what a true friend should be, and I’m certain Max did the same for Alex.
In the novella “The Body” by Stephen King, he writes, “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12. Jesus, did you?”
Ian, Alex, Max and their gang of friends who grew up together, sharing all those moments of fun, trouble and heartbreak, are now graduating from high school. Some will go to work, some to college, and others, like Max, will enter the military.
The Navy is what Max chose, and a father couldn’t be more proud.
But for a mother, the finality of motherhood eats away from the inside. This is the child she carried, the child she gave part of her own body to create, the child she nurtured and sustained. She sacrificed sleep, time, emotion, and, with joy, parts of her own aspirations to give her son everything she could.
When Max told us he wanted to join the Navy, we had two very different reactions.
Mine was, “Wow, this kid has a plan. Thank God.”
As a father, you look around and see kids struggling with so many things, and you hope your child can avoid some of those pitfalls. If I’m being honest, part of fatherhood is measuring success by whether your kid eventually gets out of your basement and into the world.
But I think mothers are built differently.
I think mothers want to hold on as long as they can. Her concerns are weighed heavily on is she prepared to give all her sacrifices away to the military? Every bit of news regarding war concerns her to her soul.
Maybe that’s God’s way of assigning different instincts to mothers and fathers. Mothers nurture to protect. Fathers prepare to push out of the nest. One holds on while the other lets go, all so the cycle continues and the next generation arrives.
It feels like just last week we left Anna Jaques Hospital with a little redhead, and yesterday he was screaming “Daddy!” with pure joy when I walked through the door after a long day.
I suppose I always knew time was fleeting, but somewhere along the way there was a last time I heard that little voice still unable to pronounce every word clearly calling out with joy, glee and excitement at the arrival of his hero coming home.
Now, I know exactly how that little boy felt seeing me walk through that door because it’s the very same feeling I get seeing him come home now.
A lot of us dream of having a son who becomes a great athlete, or one who is exceptionally smart. We ended up with a son who is exceptionally brave.
I’ve never met anyone who wanted to be great at basketball more than Max. He worked hard every single day shooting, drilling, pushing himself, but basketball wasn’t where his path led. What has always defined Max isn’t where he ended up, but his willingness to give everything he has in pursuit of what he wants.
I admire the way he lives as though he has nothing to lose, and I hope he understands that time is a fuse that’s always burning, and he can get everything he dreams of before it burns out.
Congratulations to the Class of 2026.
And to all the Salisbury Elementary kids — yesterday, you were our babies. Tomorrow, you’ll be our heroes. Remember your friends, they are the best ones you will ever have.
Thanks for reading and supporting local journalism. “Curious Traveler” is a series of stories written by C.J. Fitzwater. If you’re interested in meeting, sharing a meal and telling your story, send him an email at cfitzwater@ymail.com.