When I was a child everything seemed so wondrously new and waiting to be discovered. Even if had already been discovered by someone else, what mattered was that I hadn’t yet experienced it. As the years passed and I delighted in each discovery, I knew one day the well would begin to lower each time I partook of it. The new and novel would still come but it would require much more effort and patience. So here I am now, looking into a well and seeing darkness where it used to be shimmering and welcoming.
This is the allegory I’m facing as a middle ager. Not excited by much any more. Cynicism etched into me from age and experience. Short of patience for anything that reeks of platitudes. Criticism affects me less than before. More pensive and less reactionary. Slower to anger, but more more frequently melancholy. I ask myself the following question daily: “Where do I go from here?” Sometimes deliberately. Other times subconsciously. It’s a certainty I won’t come by the answer easily or possibly ever. All I can do is move from one day to next and watch over my family and loved ones. My wife and I watch our child grow and experience his delight in the exploration and discovery of the world.