A friend said something very interesting to me. She said, "When I cross the train tracks
now, I don't even slow down or look. Let
it happen. At least it'll be
quick."
Obviously, this only means when the gates are up.
Lest you think my friend has a death wish, let me assure
you, she does not. She's just middle-aged. The context of the conversation was not so
much about taking unnecessary risks as it was about the relieving of
responsibility.
For instance, when we used to cart our kids around in soccer-mom
vans, we would stop at every crossing, at every light, entering every rotary, even
at yield signs. We were extraordinarily
cautious. We looked a dozen times before
backing out of parking spaces. We
supervised any games involving darts, jarts, or sharp objects that might
accidentally cause impalement. We also
checked food labels, made sure no one was allergic to peanut butter (because
the PB stayed in the house -- the allergic children did not), called to check
if parents were home at the parties, and made sure everybody (even the pets)
flossed.
Now that the kids have grown and mostly moved out, we're not
the taxi drivers anymore. We're not
piloting the parental bus that needs to stop at every crossing in case a
phantom train should come barreling through. There are no phantom trains, never were, and
should there ever be, it will be quick and hopefully painless.
Old folks don’t get reckless. We just don't give a flying flap anymore. We live life by the seats of our pants, do not
understand the meaning of the word caution, and really aren't concerned about
who might be judging us (as if).
In other words, we've turned into eighteen year olds with
full paychecks, reliable automobiles, and our rooms have expanded into entire
structures.
And we're sticking our tongues out at you young'uns who
think you've got the whole world in front of you. Yeah, you may, but you've also got diapers
and chicken pox, mortgage payments and roof replacements, and the shock of
those first gray hairs and wrinkles all waiting around the corner for you. We're already past that corner, and it's not
so bad. Not nearly so bad at all.
Unless, of course, there really is a phantom train on the
tracks. That would totally suck. But it would suck quickly, and I'm okay with
it.
