Monthly Musing – February 2023 – Immortal

Can you remember being a teenager – sixteen, seventeen, eighteen or perhaps even a little bit older – and thinking you knew it all?  That the world was there for the taking and you were immortal, ready to embrace a life that stretched into infinity?

I can.  I can remember it like it was yesterday.

Not so small daughter and her boyfriend are chatting in the car as we are driving him home (ah, my girl is growing up!).  They were so busy talking and analysing a film they had been watching (The Shining – absolutely not my kind of film) that they lost track of the time, and it was only my, “When is your train home?” reminder that had them scurrying for shoes and jackets.  We arrived at the station just in time to see the train pull away.  “Oh, it’s fine,” says not so small daughter’s boyfriend, breezily, “there’s another one in half an hour or so.”

That other train in half an hour or so also turned out to be one that terminated in Liverpool, there would need to be a change and he would be hanging about a city centre station late at night … I realise now that our teenage selves just don’t see any kind of danger.  Our perceived immortality is a blessing and a curse – and there was no way I was leaving anybody to find their way home through city centre stations late at night, hence our unexpected drive.

When does it change?  That realisation that you don’t know it all, and that we only have a finite length of time to be here?  I can’t remember exactly when my sense of mortality kicked in, only that I knew it was there.  It might have been when my girls came along; it was definitely when my parents and mother-in-law died, and now, I deliberately tell everyone that I’m going to live till I’m 104 so that I don’t catch myself thinking, “What if I’ve only got 30 years … 20 years … less, left?”.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this or sayings like “Live every day as if it’s your last but as if you’ll live forever” or “Live life like someone left the gate open” wouldn’t exist.  I’m quite glad they do, though, as they remind me that even though I know that there’s still so much more to learn than I’ll ever fit into my finite lifetime, it’s OK to still think that the world is ours for the taking sometimes.

In the car, the conversation about The Shining continues (this is what you get with two film studies students!) and although there are some stern words about needing to set an alarm if they can’t remember to keep an eye on the time, I’m surprised to find that I’m not really cross about the situation.  I can remember doing similar daft things at their age myself, and I am fortunate to be in a position to help.

Would I want to go back to the time when I thought I knew everything?  Despite my husband’s jokes that I never left it, I don’t think I would.  Knowing that there is always more to know has an excitement of its own, and I am glad that I am grown up enough now to know that.

My sixteen year old self would never believe it!