The Golden Years

Sometimes when I meet people with young children of a certain age, I murmur, "Ah. The golden years." When my children were small, I thought that the years between about age six and age ten were the best, the golden years. They were past the complete dependency of being babies and toddlers, but they still needed mama and dad. They weren't quite ready to forcefully assert their independence, but they had their own unique qualities and ways of looking at the world. They were sweet, funny, trusting, open-minded, enthusiastic and adventurous. Make no mistake: both my children still are!

But adolescence is a challenge. I think I speak for all of us who have experienced it.

I am happy to report, however, that I think there are additional golden years for young adult children. It's that charming period of time when they have finished college, launched their careers, and they're thrilled with new-found autonomy.

I imagine a time will come when the other challenges of adulthood such as the responsibility of a family or increasing pressure in a career, or the heartache of dealing with aging parents will dampen some of my children's spirit, and raise my levels of maternal anxiety and sympathy. Nothing gold can stay.

But for now, my son is in the second golden-years stage of life. It's great. His dad and I grin at each other a lot.

I suppose it's fitting and just a little bit ironic that my son seems to think that his dad and I are also in our "Golden Years." You know--golden, as in "heading into the sunset of life." That's fine with me. I'm not sure that I'm quite as decrepit as he thinks I am, but if he wants to take extra good care of me now, who am I to protest?