Whither I Wander

It’s said that a wandering mind is a sign of aging and I am certainly proof. When I was younger, I had the impression that it was one of the many negative aspects of aging. Nowadays, I realize that it’s a perk.

In my youth, I hated standing in lines. As I waited to buy groceries or purchase tickets, each second stretched for hours as I fumed about the things I had to do. Now I find lines interesting. There are so many different people to watch. If I tire of that, my mind will take a trip down memory lane and time flies.

Last week, I had a thirty minute wait, while Miss Muffin took her first guitar lesson. I sat outside the lesson room, listening for a bit, while simultaneously enjoying the parade of customers. I wanted to urge more practice on the teen, who was certain that his instrument was responsible for his bad playing. My mind quickly traveled to pleasurable hours jamming with my best friend and oldest cousin. We loved playing and no one had to urge us to practice. I didn’t get to tell the young man anything, because he had already left the store before my mind returned from the musical days of my youth. I had no words for the portly trumpet player, who claimed he could get a better buy elsewhere, because I took a trip back to a thrift shop that sold me sterling silver spoons for a nickel apiece, because they were blackened and other customers preferred to buy shiny stainless steel flatware. I had hardly relived that great bargain-shopping triumph, when Muffin emerged from the lesson room.

A glance at the clock confirmed that more than thirty minutes had passed. Darn! I had so much more to think about. Can’t wait for next week’s lesson.