The Fate Of Icarus And Me

I was seven, and I was mad at my Dad.

He confiscated my bike for riding it near the railroad tracks.

He deemed them as off-limits for being too dangerous.

I walked around the house pouting and sullen, like something about to blow up.

I thought that I was old enough now to take care of myself.

Then, my Grandfather took me for a walk to our favorite bench in the park.

A blazing orange sun was getting ready to set in the sky, and we sat down there quietly for a time.

"Did I ever tell you the story of Icarus?" he suddenly asked.

I shook my head and leaned in to listen;

His stories were always the best.

Then he calmly proceeded to tell this tale, in ernest...

Icarus was a boy, a lot like you, who happened to be imprisoned in a dark tower with his father.

Below them was a labyrinth, his father had built for a greedy king, and there were guards down there armed to the teeth.

They were in a Gosh Darn pickle, is how it seemed, cause, By Golly, the only way out was the window opening!

Daedalus, Icarus' Dad, happened to be an expert at making things, given he had built that maze and everything.

He got himself to work on a good way to escape, making these contraptions, from bird's feathers, wax, and strappings.

He attached them to their arms, and, By George, they had wings!

And, before they set off on their big journey, Daedalus set Icarus some boundaries for his safety, like rules, you see.

Now, the most important rule was that his boy, Icarus, not fly too close to the sun's fiery fierceness.

But, once in the air, Icarus felt oh so confident and free, he flew higher and higher, ignoring his father's boundary.

He was so darn arrogant, he flew right up close to that devil of a sun's face.

That was the boy's biggest mistake.

That blazing ball of fire melted the wax holding together his wings.

And, sadly. they just fell apart, into pieces, plunging poor Icarus right down into the sea.

His unhappy Dad, Daedalus,  why he was left all alone to just cry his eyes out and grieve.

Grandfather shook his head and cleared his throat, his way to signal he was finished; then there was silence.

And, I thought about it all, for a few quiet moments.

The story of Icarus appeared to carry a lesson that was more than coincidence.

So, after we returned for a late dinner, I was somber, but I was no  longer mad, and my thinking was clearer.

And when my Dad tucked me in that night, I told him I loved him and hugged him tight.

Now, as a father myself, when I set boundaries, I have told the story of Icarus to emphasize:

"Rules are meant to help ensure safety,  and here is a reason why."

But, whenever I tell that now well worn tale of the fate of Icarus and me, I find myself thinking of things like grandkids, yet to be.

Then, I always stop and smile, my memory returning like a prism,

As I recall sitting on that bench, and my Grandfather's sunset wisdom.