Our esteemed editor’s mysterious hint that Dragonfly was soon to metamorphose into a seagull – a kind of Jonathan Livingstone – was a reference to our decision to go sailing or, as
I tip my skipper’s cap to those of our little community who have congratulated us on this new adventure and brought a tear of gratitude to my eye with little endearments like ‘I had a friend die at sea once’ and ‘you’re mad’.
Alan Leggitt assured me that it was a ‘middle age’ thing and offered to take me for a walk in the mountains so that he could share with me his lifelong observation of such things. This was the sweetest friendliness.
Intrigued, I consulted my trusty Oxford English Dictionary, which said merely that middle age was ‘the period between youth and old age, about 45 to 60’. This can’t be right; it sounds too arbitrary. If so, then my children are youths – although they’ve already produced four grandchildren and a half – and most of the Probus committee, and almost the entire walking club, are geriatric.
Contrary to Mrs Dragonfly’s assertions, I remember childhood. What was so exciting about it? In a word: potential. Kids see few limits to it. I wanted to be an astronaut, or a fireman, or a lawyer (thank God I got over that one), and so on. I changed my mind whenever I discovered something new.
What’s so bad about being old? I suspect that the answer would be ‘limitations’. He's too old or he can't do that any more. He used to be able to, but no more. There's no point starting a new career; he doesn't have time on his side. He's paid his dues and he didn't get what he expected. He doesn't like it, but that’s his lot in life.
Perhaps middle age is the time between these two states, a shift so slow, so incremental, we don't notice it. We start at one end and end up at the other.
Looked at with any objectivity, middle age ought rather to be a celebration of having the experience and freedom finally to begin growing, not declining. Alan and Muriel still look forward to tomorrow, I’m sure, but maybe others slide down the hill from youth to old age, instead of climbing it.
It is both sad and exciting, and we shall miss you and this mountain paradise, but, when we spot the seagulls, we shall think of you.
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