Half a world wiser

 We rarely consider how satisfying it can be to navigate our ordinary lives. With all the complex problems we face, it can be such a joy to tackle the things we do by rote, or more tedious than technical. No, we seldom celebrate the successful reading of a bus schedule or the stain that came out in the wash.

That's why travel can be such a blessing.

You get to see new things, meet new people, and imagine how our lives could be if our surroundings were entirely different.

We all kind of know that the bloom on this particular rose usually only lasts for a week or so.

The trials and tribulations of setting up a new life, no matter how temporary, in another town let alone another country, didn't particularly strike her as daunting at first. She imagined she could live in a hotel room out of two pieces of luggage just fine for a few months.

Case in point: My daughter went away to Greece for a semester abroad and was stunned by how much she didn't love it.

Her brief messages home were filled with pictures of herself and her friends visiting beautiful places we have only dreamed of seeing; The Palace of Versailles, Trevi Fountain, Big Ben, and The Acropolis. Followed by an accordioning list of complaints: "It's not walkable; the buses have an irregular schedule; there's so much creepy cat-calling; and you would not believe the price of washing and drying a single load of laundry! "Sixteen Euros?!?!?!" 

For comparison (and so I can share in her outrage), she will tell me to hang on while she takes a photo of her lunch and sends it instantaneously through the magic of technology:

“The phone pings: … and I see a sandwich that could easily feed three of her along with the all-caps expletive and explainer, summing up her frustrations: "LOOK AT THIS!!! One dryer tumble cost more than my entire meal."

So when folks asked me how she was faring out in the world, I honestly didn't know what to say. “She seems to be enjoying the food,”  

But for some reason, I still feel the need to tell friends and family the other thing … “Oh … you know the old saying, 'youth is wasted on the young'.”

To which everyone automatically murmurs and nods in agreement. Harkening back to our Salad Days that none of us seemed to enjoy.

Truly, though, I don't believe what I say as I try to limit myself to small talk. I can't seem to exchange normal pleasantries without getting into the tangled weeds of my otherwise untended thoughts.

Youth isn't wasted on the young. It just may take a little more experience to understand what you witnessed, accomplished, or were perhaps “blessed with” back in the day.

I think it's the rarest of people who don't need time and distance to bring their experiences into better focus.

As a mother, when she walks through the arrivals gate, of course, I can't give her much distance. I'm all flappy arms, long hugs, and a zillion questions. And after a few sleeps she will start to tell me her stories. She will tell me about the people, and the places and the ways they were different but how the joys and the problems seemed the same. And her voice will become more and more energized and her words will start to glow as she relays her memories.

She's already half a world wiser, and in no time at all she will realize how well her youth has already invested in her coming of age.

“I really can't wait to go home and do my laundry … for free.”