“Each generation imagines itself to be more intelligent than the one that went before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it.” – George Orwell
Friday, August 15th
I remember as a child telling my brother – I six and he fifteen – that I was smarter than him. And I really believed it. I’m sure I had moments growing up where I felt that my knowledge and experience was more relevant than my parents’. How connected could they be when they were working day-in and day-out, grumbling about the price of groceries, and lacking a passion to make a real difference in the world? They didn’t understand what my generation was going through, and there certainly was a disconnect between us even though we got along fine.
Payback’s double, right? Now I have two children entering interesting and perplexing developmental stages. My six-year-old knows she can say “no” and uses that power liberally; she has agency and she isn’t afraid to use it. My four-year-old watches his sister for cues on how to act and what to say. I know the only way through this is with patience, love, and more patience. It seems unfathomable that repeating myself endlessly will actually make headway with these little ones.
In some beautiful way, it is the passing of the baton. We are in the relay of life and as I take on a different pace I see my children starting to catch up to me. Running. Sometimes stomping. One day I’ll feel a breeze and won’t know quite what it was until I look ahead and see that they’ve passed me and leaped over to a new track entirely.
I give thanks for these flawed days of muddling through it all together.
When all is said and done, what brings the most meaning to your day?