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Honoring my Mother | Children as life’s gauge

There could be truth in the belief that maturity does not really come with age, but with accumulated experience. Reason is, if we believed that we mature because of age, we might as well officially qualify ourselves as fruits, instead of as people.

However, to totally submit that experiences alone is the sole barometer of maturity is to invite the misconception that too much acquisition makes us experts at something, one way or the other. Far from it, the more we know, the more we do not know, and because life’s lessons never stop, we never stop learning. Ergo, the ‘expert’ tag becomes nothing but an illusory label we give ourselves to define us. Almost akin to whistling in the dark.

As the world turns, every trace and level of ‘expertise’ or mastery one claims to have earned, will eventually be stripped, washed away and replaced by newer truths and lessons, which then will be claimed by younger hooman generations as their own. As such, this might be the curse of all who have come before, a view from the vantage point of the rocking chair, or where one chooses to sit.

So, if one must still persist, go grump grump, and stomp stomp to your heart’s delight, but the pace of the world will still be as it is, constantly overrun by baby steps and there will be no stopping it. In the end, that is the only reality there is.

This may be the hidden mickey of maturity yet; not sitting on one’s experiences but accepting the changes of the brave new world, and gladly welcoming the new age. The may be why the pitter-patter of tiny feet can be a most wondrous thing for old ears. It is not merely for sentimental reasons. Their steps symbolize our silent and complete acceptance to what lay ahead, beyond the range of our own tiring feet.

In the same way parents find delight at a baby’s unsteady gaits towards them, they must accept that those same steps will head in the opposite direction when the day comes. Haha Happy Grandparents Day.

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