We’re getting old

My bride and I chuckle as we listen to our parents complain of old age.  Mom noted how well she slept because she only got up to pee twice and Dad's new fiber regimen seeks to be doing the trick.  It’s been a good week.  The measure of a good night’s rest certainly changes doesn’t it.  The standards are different in seasons of life. 

My bride and I laugh as we head off to bed. Hours later, the joke was on us as I stood waiting for her to wrap up in the bathroom.

Are we old?  It’s not funny. At least to us it’s not.  Our parents are getting a kick out of our newfound awareness.  They accepted this routine as their reality some time ago while we’re still denying it. 

There’s a pattern to growing older. Late night visits to the loo aren’t inevitable, but they certainly are more common.  

What is not as common is the acceptance of these patterns and the acknowledgement that we are, in fact, aging.  I can continue denying my nightly visits and rationalizing them as a season or I can accept the changes happening and lean into them, learning patterns, causes and effects.  

This holds true of my wife’s heart and my child’s dreams.  At some point, my child will likely grow out of a desire to be a professional baseball player / fireman / fishing guide. Am I locked in with his shifting desires and body and heart? What is my wife’s dream?  I bought her that really fancy bowl she wanted, so what now?  

Getting old means adapting, not giving in or giving up.  It means paying attention more closely (and choosing the side of the bed nearest the potty).