I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… you know, keeping up. Not the Keeping up with the Joneses sort of keeping up, but the staying strong and keeping up with the times sort of keeping up. It’s been going on for awhile, but I hadn’t noticed it so much in the last few years as much as I have recently.
On a recent trip down to SeaTac airport, there was some questioning who’d drive and who’d stay home. I volunteered to drive and as I was driving and the miles were passing… maybe it was mile-marker 14 or so, I mulled over the thought that I wondered am I going the right way — or will I miss my turn-off? Then I thought, O, that’s absurd, I go down to the airport at least once a month, if not more. Then I got to thinking, there sure have been a lot of changes to the Bellevue skyline and in the number of cars on the road. And I felt old. Music was playing… I hadn’t pushed any of the buttons (preset to stations I didn’t even know) and I noted that everyone in the vehicle was using some sort of device… listening, talking, texting… texting… texting. And somewhere along the way, I thought: Omy, I really must work at keeping up. A few minutes later, arriving at the departure gates, my daughter said I ought to go in and that she’d drive the van around; go ahead, mama, go ahead, I’ve got it.
Eventually I obliged and got out… still thinking, still feeling old, still thinking I need to keep up, I thought: Yes, you’ve got it; I used to have it and now I feel like I don’t. And time seemed to stand still for a moment as I waited with the others for the passengers to deplane. A bit later, as we made our way home, I commented to the driver, I need to keep driving sometimes — I need to stay sharp, I need to keep up.
She smiled and said, don’t worry, I don’t mind driving. And I thought, me neither. She doesn’t know I need to drive. She doesn’t know I need to keep up.