Finding My Way Back
I spent Saturday in the company of friends. Friends from the old times, the old days. From the time when life was young and tomorrow was an endless stretch of days. Friends from the time when we had no kids, to the time when we all had kids, to the time when our kids had kids. We gathered to remember one of the departed, a mother, the second mother we’ve lost.
There was sadness to be sure, but we told stories that made us laugh, we grilled, made margaritas, and kept a weather eye on the six kids running around, splashing in the kiddie pool and shooting water into the air from the hose. It’s amazing how much energy people under ten can have, and how much pleasure they can find while sitting in five inches of water with a garden hose. I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever find that level of pleasure again.
It strikes me it’s the simple things that might do the trick. But finding the simple things is hard these days because somewhere along the line, we all strapped on the heart attack machine and became sensible adults dedicated to the art of providing while maintaining decorum. That’s exhausting work. But since I’ve reached the age where someone might soon need to change my diaper again, maybe I can find my way back to the kiddie pool before it happens.