Wil je het nog eens doen?
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Vorige week kozen we een kindvriendelijk hotel voor ons verblijf in Marrakech. Zo'n plek waar onze 6-jarige een 6-jarige kan zijn, inclusief schreeuwen, veel te hard lachen, bommen maken in het grote, vol met andere 6-jarige tomboys, zwembad met glijbanen, chips eten met ketchup, en een kinderdisko.
Everything about this decision made our journey easier than if we chose our usual intimate, tiny, lovely, personal, quiet Riad. Not that we don’t prefer such a place, we simply didn’t want to terrorize the other rest-seeking, book-reading, spa-visiting guests of our favorite Riad.
During our stay at our kids-friendly hotel, I regularly observed the teenagers walking around. Do you ever look at them? I can for hours, with great interest and pleasure. It provokes arm memories of my own teenage years and many years after. The innocence, the visible attitude of “the world is mine.” The first awareness of their sexuality, the flirting, and the promise of future possibilities. The confidence that all dreams might come true and, above all, their bold, carefree attitude.
I remember such an attitude very well but no longer have it. I feel an absence when I observe the youngsters. What a pity that I have lost that carelessness. But at the same time, I also realize that something completely different has come in return; calm wisdom. The realization that with age, the reality of my mortality has grown. I grew beyond the disappointment of broken dreams. Not all of them came true, and that is ok. That life isn’t makeable. Nobody was able to heal my wounds. Seeking love in another person ended up in many disappointments until I realized I had to learn how to love myself first.
