Where Did the Wonder Go?

Christmas is over and done. The house is returning to normal. Slowly. Sometime during this holiday I realized the balance of life had slipped. We had turned into the older, left-at-home parents and were no longer on the upside of life. We're not quite grandma and grandpa, but neither are we the "kids" any longer. Nobody worries about us going out, who our friends are, what we're eating, ARE we eating, or what time we get in (mostly because they know we are in, all the time). We've turned into the old folks at home. And I wonder....when did this happen. Was I asleep? Did Santa deliver this along with gifts? Did gnomes or elves slap these wrinkles on our faces and take away years? It wasn't that long ago that we were the ones being worried about, the ones out having fun, the ones everyone tskked, tskked over (as in: Those crazy kids, tsk, tsk!). And now we're tskking.

When you reach our ages it begins to settle in that life isn't forever, things don't turn out the way you planned, babies grow up and leave the nest, and you do turn into your parents. As words leave my mouth now, many of them are framed by my mother's voice and face. Even as I'm speaking I know how much I sound like her and how much I don't want to; but I can't stop myself. I'm saying/doing things I promised my younger self I'd NEVER say/do. And the really bad part is, I CAN'T STOP IT! Even being hyper-aware doesn't stop it. It's as if the words have been put in my head against my will and leave me of their own volition. I'm like the pass-through in the kitchen. I'm channeling my mother against my will.

We've all heard the old saw: "Older, but wiser." I definitely have the "older" part down. I know all about "older" and just have to say I'm really ready for the "wiser" to become part of the package. Right now it appears to be only "older" and not a lot smarter. I might even go so far as to go right out on a limb and say that I'm wondering if the "wiser" part of the equation is simply a euphemism for caution. It seems as if, as we age, we lose that which is a young person's greatest gift. They aren't truly aware of the smack downs that life can give. If one gets smacked down enough, pretty soon, unless you're a really hard-core case, you learn to be a little cautious. To not just jump into that pool of water, but to first test it a little with a couple of toes. To not just move to that new town, but to take a couple of trips there first before you make that big commitment. That "It's too good to be true" means exactly that---it's too good to be true. So perhaps it's not "older, but wiser" but rather, "older, and more cautious." The down side to that, of course, is that somewhere along the way, some of the enthusiasm of youth drains out with the spirit of adventure. Wonder and awe get further removed. It gets harder and harder to find magic. The up side is that life is lived more evenly. Things don't quite twist undies into bunches the way they used to. One is able to realize that most things, given enough time, will pass and resolve.

But, sometimes, deep inside, there's a teeny, tiny part of me that wants some of that anxiousness, uncertainty, magic, awe and wonder.

Fall is Officially Here!

Who knew starting a blog was so easy? I am absolutely technologically challenged and yet here I am.

Fall came this week. The reason I know this is because my dog (a perpetually-irritated Westie) has decided that I may hold her on my lap. She does this every fall and winter, and only during the fall and winter months. When the weather is right, and when she's darned good and ready, she will allow me to pick her up and put her on my lap while I'm reading the paper. She has to initiate this little dance. First she approaches my chair and puts her feet up and looks at me. And looks. And looks, until I suddenly recognize what she's trying to tell me. "Yes, yes, it's fall! Yes, the weather is cooling off! You may hold me now." Most of the time I'm much slower to arrive at this conclusion than she thinks I should be. I'm slower because the dance I'm waiting for is the one where she sits, looking at me while I do my regular table-setting routine. She's already been out and been fed. She's waiting for me to sit down and pick up the paper. Then, and only then, she MUST be let outside, immediately. She has things out there she needs to do. But only after I sit down and pick up the paper. That's the critical part. It's no good trying to wait her out. She knows the order of these things. There is a reason why it must be after I sit. I don't know the why of it. And, to give her full credit, apparently, it's not important that I know the "why." My job is to sit, pick up the paper and then get back up and let her out. It's just the way it is. We each have our assigned tasks and mine is to do her bidding. But only after I sit. Every single morning.

Any other time of the year is simply out of the question for early-morning lap-sitting. I don't care what the calendar says; this year fall fell on October 18th. Forget the solstice and the alignment of the stars, the turning of the leaves or ducks flying in v-formations. At our house, when Belle desires early morning lap time, the weather is changing. She'll sit there every morning until the temperature starts to rise in the spring. It's sad when that day comes because it signals the onset of hot temperatures and I know they'll last from about mid-April until October rolls around again.