Have you ever been humbled so swiftly that it took your breath away? It’s a moment, that’s for sure. Last night I briefly thought I was 25 again, until I was jolted into the realization that I’m (apparently) still 50.
My son’s band was playing with a few other bands from his school. I love watching him and his peers – they’re all such talented musicians. After my son’s band left the stage, the next band was up and playing, and all the kids were dancing, jumping, singing, and having a great time. We were camped on the sides for the show, along with a few other adults. I’d just finished telling my daughter I was itching to join the crowd, when the band launched into my favorite My Chemical Romance song. Those opening chords hit like a time machine, taking me back to the MCR concert my kids and I saw about a month ago, and also back to the first time I heard the song twenty years ago. I was about to leap up anyway, but my son waved my daughter and me to the dance floor, giving me the perfect excuse to jump out of my chair at the edge of the floor and go join the fun.
Once out there we were all singing the lyrics to each other and enjoying the song, and for a moment or two I forgot I was “middle aged.” My daughter and I traded lyrics back and forth, and the moment was simple perfection. Then my son started jumping in time to the beat with the other teenagers on the floor. My daughter, who is in her twenties, joined in. Not to be outdone, I started jumping with them. Live music has always been my thing, and I was secretly thrilled that I could still jump and sing with the younger crowd, and more than that it was just fun.
There’s nothing like a moment of pure joy at enjoying something together with your children. And the fact that we share a love of live music makes it extra special. But I’ll admit it. Underneath my happiness at enjoying the song in the crowd with my kids, I was proud of the fact that at 50 my knees, feet, hips, etc still let me jump like I was 20. Just at the exact moment when I was about to turn to my daughter and say “See? I’m still cool!” I realized that another body part of mine made a brief, rebellious cameo:
My bladder.
Oh no.
My body had betrayed me at the worst possible moment, while I was glorying in not feeling quite so old for a moment. I’d never been knocked off my high horse so fast. I feel like my body either has a sick sense of humor or just outright decided to mock me because I had the audacity to feel young again.
In that one moment, the feeling of being transported to twenty years ago was not only gone but completely whisked away. Instead, I was left with the crazy juxtuposition of feeling ridiculously relieved that it was a very small situation yet also chagrined that it happened at all. When the song ended I slowly made my way back to the chair and resigned myself to staying in it, despite how much I wanted to keep jumping with the kids. I couldn’t risk the tiny situation becoming an actual situation, and so I decided to stick to chair dancing.
What is my takeaway from this, besides maybe not jumping up and down at shows anymore? I suppose it’s that the minute you get too proud of yourself, your body will find a way to bring you back down to earth.
Oh, and always use the facilities before a concert. Trust me.
