Slow Life: The Guilt of Not Being Young

You walk slowly, slightly bent forward, in the warmth of this spring day, with the smells of nature that tickle your breath.

You've been going out alone for some time now, your walks tell the story of the years that have passed with their inexorable pace, which you know too well to stop thinking about.

You would like to tell, once again, your youth, the mountains with friends, the conquered peaks, your love waiting for you at home, the trips with your children to discover the holiday resorts and your country.

Would you like to tell about your work, how you were capable and qualified, how far you have come, how many people have worked with you and how you felt at center of the world.

You would like to return to those honey days where you were the protagonist of your life, responsible and capable, author of the success of your family, with the pleasure of seeing them grow well your children knowing that, with a touch of pride, you could reflect yourself in them.

Would you like to go back to the hustle and bustle of your home full of noise, talk, laughter, crying and chat, with your wife and children, in which you dispensed advice for life.

You would like to know that you still have goals, that you are useful to someone, that you can be called for advice, that you count for others.

You would like to tell… but to whom? The little things of today mark a repetitive everyday life, waiting, day after day, for some event that unhinges and disrupts your life, at least for a few hours.

They repeat that you are not alone, your children are always at your disposal, they help you, they simplify your daily life, they come to visit you in your little house, where you learned to cook, clean, dust and collect the flowers of your garden, to put in front of too many photographs that remind you of a past that no longer exists.

They tell you that you are lucky, every now and then you are invited to lunch or dinner by your children, sometimes, even, they invite you on vacation with them, you understand what they do everything possible to make you feel part of the family.

But the melancholy remains, for what no longer exists and for a sense of life that little belongs to you, a different world from which you are excluded, a world that needs the help of a young person to be experienced.

But you see the glass as half full, thinking of all the people like you who are alone, always, fragile and exposed to a world they don't understand, without help and without any comfort.

If you are guilty of not being young anymore, you have been lucky, because your guilt is small and your penance is light.

Automatic translation. We apologize for any inaccuracies. Original article in Italian.