I just returned from a brief trip to the hardware store. I was in and out in under three minutes. Luck should have it that on my way out I saw an elderly man walking in. He is probably in his mid-seventies and his expression showed no particular sign of jubilation or dismay. He was however balancing himself on the sidewalk curb.
It was just as you are imagining it. His arms were extended at his sides just slightly to keep his center of gravity. His posture was similar to a four-year-old who might be doing the same thing: knees bent a bit and shoulders and head leaning forward to keep a close watch on his steps. I think his end-game was simply to keep his shoes dry from the rivers of melting snow in the parking lot.
None-the-less, I was so pleased with this momentary and somewhat involuntary people-watching moment that I had to share. How often am I so worried about what others will think that I just end up with cold, wet toes? Do I miss moments of child-like pleasure because I am too busy getting from point A to point B?
Will life still be amusing when I am seventy? Or will I be the grouch who just can't stand even the most minor inconvenience? Decisions I make now, those everyday choices to enjoy life or become disgruntled, absolutely will determine the person I am in two years, ten years, or thirty.
So thank you Mister Seventy-year-old-balancing-on-the-curb. I gained some perspective today. Life is too short not to have a little fun some times.
It was just as you are imagining it. His arms were extended at his sides just slightly to keep his center of gravity. His posture was similar to a four-year-old who might be doing the same thing: knees bent a bit and shoulders and head leaning forward to keep a close watch on his steps. I think his end-game was simply to keep his shoes dry from the rivers of melting snow in the parking lot.
None-the-less, I was so pleased with this momentary and somewhat involuntary people-watching moment that I had to share. How often am I so worried about what others will think that I just end up with cold, wet toes? Do I miss moments of child-like pleasure because I am too busy getting from point A to point B?
Will life still be amusing when I am seventy? Or will I be the grouch who just can't stand even the most minor inconvenience? Decisions I make now, those everyday choices to enjoy life or become disgruntled, absolutely will determine the person I am in two years, ten years, or thirty.
So thank you Mister Seventy-year-old-balancing-on-the-curb. I gained some perspective today. Life is too short not to have a little fun some times.
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