It wasn’t until a five year old elbowed me out of a Wal-Mart aisle that I realized I am getting old.
Her and her holographic Justin Bieber backpack and Dora The Explorer T-shirt—racing to grab the last Hannah Montana lunchbox.
Two things offended me about this situation.
One. Nobody told me Bieber was making backpacks. Cultural advisers—consider this your resignation.
Two. Another school year is starting without me…
In a few short blinks I’ve traded in my Trapper Keeper for a black padfolio and a chic resume. Suddenly growing up is no longer easy. Time is something I now want to cherish rather than wait for the dismissal bell.
Another revelation hit me as I found my stride cautiously back into the pens and folders aisle.
Babybopper’s mother was pushing the cart of school supplies along with her two other children. There was some complaining about whether or not they could have one more set of highlighter pens. There was some bartering and talk of “you have enough;” until the mother finally caved and replied softly with an “okay.”
My first thought was, “that’s an expensive cart,” then thought about the viewpoint of the mother. Not the kids, but the mother. I’ve become Team Parent. I guess my time outside the Playskool walls have been enough to forget what they feel like. Now my concern is budgeting for rent and groceries, not trying to get the coolest pens that sparkle when you write fast enough.
So this is grown up, huh?
There is no expiration date on youth; however, time has certainly changed my perspective on the meaning.
I remember my childhood so vividly through these back-to-school moments. It’s something in life I now will only have in memories.
And so I kept walking.
With no great conclusion, I just continued down the long aisle with a distant stare. I just remember thinking, “Huh…” as I turned left into the next aisle.
-Jason O’Toole
(Source: memoir.jasonotoole.com)
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