I’m grateful for all the youth in our lives these
days. Not my youth, of course (which packed up and headed for warmer territory
many years ago), but the youth of our many young friends, my sons, and their friends who all color our lives
and bring a vibrancy that an aging couple can’t help but joyfully appreciate.
just spent the long Easter weekend in Chattanooga with three of our sons, one
of their roommates, our daughter-in-law, and her former college roommate. The
conversations and laughter and all that energy and creative thinking inspired
us and made us forget that one of us needs a set of hearing aids and the other
one….well, never mind.
our 25-year old twins, seven hours heading away from Chicago to watch the leaves slowly
unfold before our eyes, ushering in springtime in the course of our travel time
while we processed life and felt privileged to be invited into our son’s
thoughts, questions, and celebrations. As the leaves budded on the trees and
the road rose and fell until finally rising once and for all into the mountains
of Tennessee, we listened to a young person’s perspective and private thoughts.
on tape. Wanna put one in?” I asked several hours into our drive.
course it’s all right.
all of my son Kyle’s friends. Over the course of the weekend, we were welcomed
into homes for delicious dinners prepared by hospitable young women, offered to
us with generous plates of engaging conversations. In Chattanooga, we enjoyed several restaurant
meals with the gang, laughing uproariously over jokes and silliness, like the
moment my husband mistakenly took a stranger in a coffee shop to be our son. While
we all waited for our coffee orders, Bill sidled up to this young man leaning
against the wall who wore the same white t-shirt and dark hair as our twins. Shoulder
up against shoulder, Bill began to sing “Resurrection Fern” by Iron and Wine way too
close to the young man:
fire
Our tender bellies are wound around in baling wire
All the more a pair of underwater pearls
Than the oak tree and its resurrection fern
ears of a stranger? One by one,
the members of our group realized Bill’s error. Taylor’s roommate watched it
unfold from his place at the counter. I stood on the stranger’s other side and
thought Bill had his arm around the young man. We both noticed about the same
time that this young man didn’t belong in our family and Bill scooted away,
apologizing profusely. Jamison suggested our entire family gather round and put
all of our arms around the stranger
who by now wore a panicky little stricken smile on his face. Sometime during
our hysterical laughter, he slipped away with his coffee.
the young people in our lives. And laughing makes me feel so rich…and so young.
The
laughter also visits when we are with youthful friends in the Chicago area who join
us for nights by our fireplace or nights at our favorite Thai restaurant, or
for brunch, or a chat by my desk at work, or in the living room of friends
where our small group meets. They remind us that aging doesn’t need to mean
segregation from different generations. We still learn from all these young
people – and maybe at times they even learn a little from us.
Our weekend ended much too quickly. Exhausted but contented,we headed back to the Chicago area, watching the leaves fold back into their buds, allowing
a sense of winter to return for a moment as we arrived back home to our leaf-less
trees, but thankful for the chance to watch spring unfold before us once again.
I'm slow in catching up on your blog, but this story of your husband singing to a stranger he thought was your son is hilarious! It's going to be family lore in no time. Thanks for the smile and the way you brought the scene to life.
Thank you, Stephanie! Yes, the story has already been told and retold!