A lot of reflecting lately. One may begin to wonder if reflecting is what I do when I cannot dredge up anything to say. I do often leave that to some thoughts… but that is more so having something to say, but not a lot to say about it. No reflections have been engrained in my mind because this lovely summer of freedom is ending for me, and I will be shortly returning to shackles of the work life. I am in my office come Monday. I’m looking forward to the twenty or so minutes where I update the interior based on my recent travels, but beyond that I haven’t felt the vibe of the place for many years. I don’t know that the old vibe is ever coming back. Some of that is my fault and, well me changing as a person.
I am growing up. Perhaps even growing old. I play (slightly) fewer video games and spend more time at the desk working. I am aware of my age, which is still sub 50 but approaching that epoch makes me feel old. Like seriously old. Like I ought to be recognizing I am not young anymore old. Fortunately, there is a 12 year old boy largely in possession of my brain function, so I get to fall back into young on occasion.
In truth, I believe the difference between being old and being young comes down to the imagination. Don’t get me wrong, the physical stuff matters–me on the beach is not the same as it was once upon a time. Yet the mental is where it impacts me the most. I don’t want to ever think old, because thinking old is a vacancy of the imagination. The young believe in possibility, so I want to stay with that feeling so long as I can still draw breath.