Ed and I just returned from spending two weeks in Europe with our teenaged grandsons. We took in a Premier League soccer match in Manchester (Man City vs Newcastle) and then traveled through Europe, exploring Paris, Barcelona, Tarragona, and Vigo, Spain.
We’ve traveled extensively with these two boys over the years, but I think this may be the last big trip with them. Ed has some physical challenges that are impacting his mobility, and the heat in Europe this summer took a toll on my body.
Until recently, traveling with our grandchildren brought out our playful sides, finding ourselves wrapped up in fits of giggles and secret explorations! Although they still help us see the world in different ways, I sense that this time we are more apart from them, more often staying in, while they explore new worlds on their own.
It’s what we fear about getting older, isn’t it? For what it might do to our minds and bodies, leaving us not what we used to be or what we want to be. But about the time I began to feel sorry about my inability to keep up with them, they gave me the opportunity to engage with them in unexpected and thought-provoking ways.
Like this conversation:
Out of the blue, our 16-year-old asked me, “If money wasn’t an issue, where would you go shopping on the Champs-Élysées, and what would you buy?”
I thought about this and responded that if I were 30 years younger, I’d go to Nina Ricci, and I’d buy an elegant dress. “I used to love clothing that made me feel like a million bucks,” I said.
The 13-year-old responded, “Why wouldn’t you buy that elegant dress at your age, now, today?”
Why not, indeed? I didn’t have a good answer. Life is quite beautiful without that exquisite dress. But how to communicate this to our young men?
Maya Angelou wrote a poem about aging and snippets of it have been bubbling up in my mind.
The piece captures perfectly that one of the lovely things about facing annoying and challenging physical limitations is gaining a deeper appreciation of what a beautiful gift life really is.
On Aging.
When you see me sitting quietly,
Like a sack left on the shelf,
Don’t think I need your chattering.
I’m listening to myself.
Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me!
Hold! Stop your sympathy!
Understanding if you got it,
Otherwise I’ll do without it!
When my bones are stiff and aching,
And my feet won’t climb the stair,
I will only ask one favor:
Don’t bring me no rocking chair.
When you see me walking, stumbling,
Don’t study and get it wrong.
‘Cause tired don’t mean lazy
And every goodbye ain’t gone.
I’m the same person I was back then,
A little less hair, a little less chin,
A lot less lungs and much less wind.
But ain’t I lucky I can still breathe in.
Indeed, ain’t we lucky we can still breathe in.