We rolled into last weekend with the intention of living in-the-moment and just letting the days unfold while spending time with our grandchildren. It started out fairly smooth and uneventful.
Then it got a bit choppy and, before the weekend ended, I nearly went under.
Funny thing, adult children. The oxymoron itself lending to complexity. We spend time — moments of reality bites, really — teaching, guiding, reflecting with them as children. Then they sprout up into efficient and thriving adults. And then one day we find that we are not as sharp in our wit and reflexes as we once were. We fall prey to the very behaviors and mindsets that once we caught at the quick and righted before troubles befell our children. We are stupefied at our actions, of our words. We wonder how. How did we become like children? Surely we are still too young to be entering that second childhood we’ve heard mention of; growing childish of mind and manner while growing older.
And we are glad. Glad that when we were able to see with eyes behind our heads and hear with ears on our backs, that we paid attention in the raising of noble and good-hearted individuals. Never expecting that the ones we worked so diligently to save from ruin would one day be saving us from the same.
You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye.
Teach your children well,
father’s mother’s hell did slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you’ll know by.
Don’t you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.
Blessings, dear reader.