Sorry for the interruption. We will now return to your regularly scheduled programming.
I feel old. Not old like “I have wrinkles and grey hair” kind of old. Just old. Maybe older would be a better way to put it.
When you’re younger you look at your parents and think they are invincible. They’re never going to age, they’re never going to get sick, they’re never going to die. My parents certainly seemed to fit that mold. They’ve always been very active. I used to give my mom a hard time; telling her she needed to learn how to have a weekend. There was no sleeping in and no idle moments during the weekend. There was always housework to do, yarkwork to do and various other chores on the list.
Since we’ve moved my mom has had an increase in her back and hip pains. I knew she’d been seeing various doctors and taking strong painkillers. But none of that really hit home until I saw her getting off of the plane. Our airport is on the smaller side so passengers deplane on the tarmac and walk up a flight of stairs to the gate. We saw her at the bottom of the plane waving and smiling. She stood there with a cane. I thought, “Oh, that’s right. She needs that occassionally.” She disappeared out of our view. We waited and waited. Long after all the other passengers came inside and met their families we still stood and waited. Finally we saw her being pushed down the hallway in a wheelchair. Sitting cramped on a plane exacerbated her back and hip and she needed a little extra help.
Something about seeing her like that made me realize our roles are slowly switching. My parents are slowing down. They aren’t the immortal superheroes I once thought they were. I’m not the dependent child I once was either. I am an adult.