Epiphany

Youth has a certain arrogance born of ignorance, doesn't it?

My friend Mark and I stood in front of Dixon Hall at Tulane University the other evening waiting for a show to begin. The sun was setting as we watched college kids scurry and strut by, noisy young peacocks still wrapped in youth's protective shroud of unknowing. They were oblivious to the two older dudes standing silently by. We were invisible to them.

"You remember being that age?" I asked.

"Barely," he said. We chuckled.

We've each had too much wine for too many years, I thought. And mortgages, and quarrels, and worries.

"They have no idea the experiences waiting to be sprung on them, do they?" I went on.

"Huh?"

"The trials and tribulations they'll face when they move on from here? From mother and father?"

"The sledge hammers of life are lying in wait," he said. We both laughed.

I wish I could warn them, but I can't. Each life must be lived.

We may be invisible, and we may not possess youth's bloom any longer, but we know an awful lot about sledge hammers. Where they hide. The havoc they wreak. How to dodge them. Occasionally.

And a little about Grace, too.

Wisdom, what a high price you demand, but you are worth every penny. Can't stay a kid forever, I thought.

It was dark now.

"Let's go," I said, "show's about to start."



Luke Saucier, April, 2010