Maybe We’re Not Meant to Grow Up

Sarah R. Moore

January 30, 2024

Earlier today, I had a fireplace technician come out to our home to see if we can get our fireplace working again. There’s no particular joy in scheduling appointments and waiting through the window of repair people’s arrival time, but these are among the things we do when we receive our “Welcome to Adulthood” package. 

When Mr. Fireplace (that’s what I’ll call him) arrived, I offered him something to drink. He replied with an enthusiastic “yes.” I asked him what he’d like, and he said, “I’ll take whatever you recommend!” Well, talk about pressure. 😉 Do I offer him a 1978 red from the cellar? (We don’t have a wine cellar, but it’s what came up in my mind.) Water felt anticlimactic, but it’s what I had on hand, unless he wanted to drink straight maple syrup or orange juice, the only liquids currently in my refrigerator. He joked that he’d love a glass of maple syrup. 

Although I’ve never met him before, we started chatting away like old friends while he inspected the fireplace. In the meantime, my child was just outside swinging on her swing set. 

Making small talk with my new friend, Mr. Fireplace, I asked him if he’d been able to get outside at all on this beautiful day. He replied, “No, but you know what I’d do if I could? I’d find a swing set. Your daughter looks like she’s having fun.”

If you’ve followed my page for a minute, you likely know what happened next. I asked him quite seriously if he wanted a turn on the swing.

Likely questioning whether I meant it, he responded, “I remember how much I loved swinging as a kid. Do you remember ever closing your eyes while swinging?”

“Of course,” I said, “You close your eyes, lean back as far as you can while holding on, and pretend like you’re flying. Is that it?”

He nodded. “Exactly!”

As he wrapped up his fireplace inspection shortly thereafter, he asked if I had any other questions. Since the repair would be straightforward, I told him that the only other question I had was what his favorite color is. (Random, I know. Sometimes words just come out and they surprise me as much as anyone else.)

“Blue,” he answered, “but not just any blue. My very favorite color is sky blue — just like we see outside today.”

I paid him, and as I walked him to the door, I got his attention again and said, “I’m guessing this didn’t take as long as you had allotted in your schedule since you’ll have to come back another day to do the repair. If you have time, I’d like to invite you to stop in our back yard and swing for a minute before you go.”

“Really?” he inquired with raised eyebrows and a look of wondrous disbelief on his face.

I nodded, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a repair person leave with a bigger smile on his face than what I saw just then. He looked both 35 and 5 at the same time. I didn’t watch to see if he went to our yard or back to his truck, but I have a pretty good guess which direction he chose.

I hope his inner child looked up at that beautiful “sky blue” sky today and experienced the same joy he felt when he was little. He was never meant to release that joy — that sense of wonder. We all still need it as often as we can get it. More than that, we get to create it for ourselves, whatever it is that brings us that feeling of safety and delight, like leaning back on a swing, on a warm day, with our eyes closed.

With love,
Sarah, author of “Peaceful Discipline” ❤️

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