In those younger days it might be a G.I. Joe action figure. Or a Hot Wheels car. How about slot cars? Remember those, when you would put them in the groove and, you held the pistol grip in your hand and, pulled the trigger to make them go? Oh what memories.
Then we progressed into the teen years. Maybe a Schwinn bicycle made the list. Or a new baseball mitt. Maybe by this time you graduated to board games. Then there were the things we didn’t really want. The clothes. But by this time our parents didn’t really know what to get us. Hell, we didn’t know what we wanted.
Now comes that early adulthood period. Maybe you received a wristwatch or a ring with your birthstone. But by this time we bought our own present. A car perhaps, or motorcycle. Bag phones or brick phones maybe. Remember those dinosaurs?
The whole point is, as we got older, our toys got bigger. Just like starting out in life, your short and progress in stature. We grow and get taller with age. Just as our toys. Then, as we age, the toys get smaller again.
Now i find myself in “middle age.” I’m not sure I’ve gone through the “crisis” yet, as I haven’t gone out and bought the Ferrari. Or found a woman half my age that I have nothing in common with. Or has her hands in my pockets. And it’s not because she is trying to find Humpfree either.
At my tallest is was 5′-11”. Now I’m 5′-10 3/4”. As the evolution of life starts to circle back around, I become shorter. Slumped. I’m sure only to get more slumped and shorter with every passing breath at this point.
And so too, have my toys become smaller. No longer do the cars and motorcycles find their way into my life that once brought the fun. Now it’s the small things that bring the pleasure. The company of a great wife. The conversation of a treasured friend are all I need. The call from a niece or nephew makes my day. Talking and laughing with a sibling about yesteryear is always a joy.
Just as in birth, as I take that long walk down the hill, life appears to be getting simpler now. I look for ways to uncluttered everyday living.
Don’t get me wrong, at 52 I’m by no means old. But if family history continues to tell its story, I’ve crossed the precipice of this journey. I’ve started to walk down that mountain instead of climbing it. And I embrace it. I welcome it.
I came into this world kicking and screaming. Shitting and pissing in a diaper. Is that the way I’m going to leave it?
And so it goes…the evolution of a life.