The dashboard informs me today that this is my 100th post. When I started blogging, I was confident that the number of posts would not even get to 50 before I lost interest and shut this blog down. As expected, things did not work out quite like I'd thought.
Two years on from starting this blog, writing some good & some bad posts, I wanted this one to stand out; to be pleasant, to be funny, to have some trace of joy rather than angst, to subscribe to hope. I sit here, re-read that line & find that this post will have failed miserably on those counts. And for once, I realize that there is no comfort in routine, in predictable patterns.
A theme done to death is how children want to be adults and once they are, find that it is not as great as they'd imagined. Today I find that it's easier to think of oneself as an adult than be treated like one by others. True, childhood is not the cakewalk Enid Blyton would have us believe, but to understand that it generally is a precursor to the patterns of adulthood is also not something one realizes in time. We live, waiting for & expecting some innocuous, possibly whimsically charming rites of passage to mark our stepping over the threshold. And we continue to wait, all the while having a lurking suspicion that the twists and turns of childhood are present but no longer the same. No longer are the consequences light enough for us to just learn and move along. An old wound, opened often enough, will refuse to heal. And the older we get, the harder it is to recover, regardless of life's lessons and experiences.
Today, at this exact moment, I miss the unthinking loyalty that friends exhibit as children. The fierce, unquestioned support for each other, regardless of whether we are right or wrong. The readiness to take up cudgels (literal or figurative) on behalf of a friend who cannot. As adults, we rationalize. I'm not suggesting here that some readers did not do that as kids... but c'mon. We went with our gut back then... and the gut told us that it takes two to play a game of cricket.
As adults, even with friends, we want to know the other side of the story. Even the Neanderthals among us are dimly aware that another side exists. While we lend a ready ear to a friend's woes, we want to know the reasons behind why X got screwed over by Y, whether Y was in the right, if X even has a case to argue for.
Typing this today, feeling what I am, having lived the last week, I know I have friends. Those who will go out of their way to help me, aware that I would do the same. But I want one who will take up the cudgel for me without thinking. And just like that I know there will not be one.
We are all adults. And in some battles, alone.
Song for the moment: Tequila Sunrise - The Eagles
Update: I do have one friend who will take up the cudgel.