Life is a cycle.
The world is so very small when you start out… From the crib to your momma’s arms, to the baby carriage back to the crib. And it is enough. But then, your legs start to grow and your mind expands and your eyes look past your momma’s arms. Exploring is all you want to do. The carriage is becoming too small. So you use your legs and stretch your world a little bit.
And you start walking.
All of a sudden, your world explodes.
There is more to life. You discover the feel of carpet under your toes. And then, past the carpet, there is gravel and a river, and even a field. And people, lots of people–with all kinds of different looks and customs and ideas. And my goodness, there are planes, and automobiles and boats. Life expands. Life is exciting. Energy flows in and out and you love the thrill of it all. Every minute of every day is filled with activities. The more the merrier. You are at the top of your game. Life is good.
You find your life partner. You have your own children and watch them grow. For the first time ever, you realize that life is a cycle. The cycle is just starting for your little ones. You rediscover the miracle of everyday treasures through their eyes. It is wonderful.
Days are filled with school activities, soccer games and graduation parties. Busy, busy, busy. Too busy to consider the cycle–just enough time to experience it.
Children go to college and move away. Careers take the foreground. Experiences keep expanding, and you take it all in. Years go by, marked by birthdays, vacations and holidays. Filled with dinners out, promotions, trips and challenges. The world is your oyster. You are at the top of your game. Life is good.
Grandchildren come along, and once more you see life through a child’s eyes. It is beautiful. But this time around, you notice the cycle starting over once again, and the wheel seems to be turning faster. It feels a little bit as though life is slipping between your fingers, like sand at the beach–delightful and grainy, but too fast. Just too fast.
And then one day, you realize that staying home at night sounds really, really nice. Candles and a good glass of wine–who needs to go out? The kids come home once in a while and you enjoy the wildness of life through their experiences while relishing your own slower-paced existence.
Retirement starts to look good: no alarm clock, no dressing up and fighting traffic. You won’t have to rush. No competition; who needs the recognition from co-workers to feel good anyway? You like who you are. Nothing to prove any more.
Let the young ones go out there and do it.
And the years go by.
Little by little, your world becomes smaller. By choice. And you really don’t mind. It’s all good.
And the years go by. From the bed to the kitchen to the couch to the bed. And you really don’t mind. It’s all good.