Albert Einstein said, “I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.” An appropriate sentiment for a time in life when I have more perspective, a better understanding of earlier lessons. I’m one of the older contributors. Actually, I may be the oldest at 47 years of age.
I don’t feel old. Isn’t that what you hear people say? I understand that now. Yes, there are days when I’m aching or just exhausted. My muscles feel as if they’ve been trampled by elephants. Come to think of it, they have been trampled by young children. But, my mind, even though I’m more forgetful, still feels like I’m much younger.
The stronger feeling, through the daily march of time, is dealing with my mortality.
At times, I long for a time when every possibility was an open opportunity, a dream or a hope for the future. As I grow older there’s a loss of hope, the anticipation, excitement of being young. Trying new things, seeing new places. Now, life is not focused on me. It’s a time to find hope and listen to the dreams of my boys.
When I see friends post pictures, I think to myself: I can’t be that old. Looking at them, I can remember late night parties, late night studying, first loves, and broken hearts. When we’re young our feelings are so palpable, like a constant ocean wave, never knowing when the tide will turn. With so many memories, so many connections, the nostalgia is bittersweet, real, and palpable.
Over twenty years ago, I was entering the workforce. Nervous and clueless as to what I could do. It’s not much different now. My children are in school, so it’s time again to re-enter the workforce. And again, I’m nervous. Maybe not clueless. I’m a little more sure of my strengths and weaknesses. As all of us will find in our forties.
But, in that uncertainty, I’m just thankful to be alive. I can think of a few high school and college classmates who don’t have the same luxury. For those of us still growing older, there’s still time to reflect and appreciate, but also time to continue and move forward. Bodies begin to slow, so our minds can collect memories and grasp the beauty of our world. We realize we must bestow the gifts of this earth — its beauty, its joys, its grievances — to our children and grandchildren.
