I’ve reached that age somehow. That age where your peers begin complaining of body aches, high blood pressure, decreasing visual acuity, etc. The things my parents used to make remarks about…well, still do.
Middle age. It arrived quickly and with little warning. Within a year, it seems, I went from chasing toddlers to driving kids to practice to watching my daughter walk down the aisle to having the empty nest. And it’s okay, actually. For the most part.
I spent time with very long established friends last night. In fact, one of those friends was in my 5th grade class when my family first moved to Tampa. We’re all in different stages of raising families but we share a commonality; we’re middle aged. As a group, we’re blessed, because the vast majority of us still have parents who are alive and well. But not all.
My parents have been on my mind a lot lately. When you’ve been away from home for as long as I have, I suppose it’s only natural to develop differing viewpoints on the world than those beliefs instilled through childhood. After all, we all experience life differently than mom and dad did. It’s a different world now.
Anyway, I’ve spent the time since my Christmas visit with them wondering how it is that their views are so vastly separated from my own. I’ve squandered some valuable time just shaking my head in disbelief. It’s taken me a very long time to understand that I can be angry but they’re continuing to go about their day. I can be bitter but they’ve long since forgotten why I’m upset. I can hold a grudge but then I am reverting back to my old self and where’s the sense in that?
So today, I am thankful for my parents ~ flaws and all. We’re all flawed in varying degrees, incidentally. Just because I’m a little different in my thinking doesn’t mean we don’t all belong with each other.