I used to think that the fundamental difference between children and grownups was that grownups were calm and reasonable and (usually) right and did not say mean things. Then in eighth grade– I think– or maybe ninth, I knew a grownup who was cruel and held hatred in his heart and who could not control the world because the world is a joyful place and he had no way to mete out that joy. Not to say that he didn’t like a good laugh, but this man always had to say the punchline.
I’m twenty-five now, and approaching what I used to consider ‘grownup.’ That liminal age between Sundays on the soccer field and the people who were married or with children. I’d like to get it all together because I don’t want to be the One who disillusions some child. I don’t know how long it’ll take before I’m calm and reasonable, but I guess it might be awhile. What I can do in the meantime is try to never be cruel, and still I love best of all the children that dress funny and scowl with teeth they haven’t grown into. Damn! I get that!