I remember when I used to jump on my father’s back and ask him to give me a piggy-back ride. Our younger boys do that to my husband and my oldest son all of the time.
The other day, I watched as our oldest son gave our five-year-old a shoulder ride. He laughed and smiled as he announced how much smaller we all looked with him up so high.
He rode for about twenty minutes before my older son, worn and tired, took him off his shoulders and placed him back on the floor. My five-year-old then asked my fifteen-year old, “Is your back getting old?”
We all laughed, because we knew he meant tired, but he made me think. When my father hoisted me up in the air and on his back, he seemed invincible. My mother never seemed to run out of energy, as she shuffled me from one activity to another during the day and stayed up until late at night sewing a new outfit for me or adjusting my uniform.
Recently, I have found myself nervously thinking about my parents aging. The more years go by, the less time it seems I will have with them. They are still both very healthy and active, but they are aging.
I see it in their eyes when they doze off at five o’clock for “a little nap” in front of the television. I notice it in their walk when we visit them and go to the stores. I am not ready for my parents to get older and slow down. I am not used to this.
The other day our five-year-old told me, “You are not old yet, but your mother is, and one day you will be too.”
He’s right, I will, but for now I am going to try to enjoy all of my family members, those young and spry and those who are starting to age.
Thanks for sharing.