“Hilarious, fun, once more, neat!”
That’s what the kids said as we emerged from five minutes of dodging rocks and water, being hurled up, down and sideways, into the dark and out on the cliffs on the Rocky Mountain ride. A passerby saw me, and immediately offered her arm as support, “do you need a doctor?” she said. I did get over that, sort of. It just seems like runaway trains is the best description of my thought process as I get older.
It used to be different. My train of thought was a train gliding fast over the vast prairie. It knew the small towns where it was supposed to stop and pick up cargo and deliver necessities, and it did. It was totally reliable and always on time.
Now my train of thoughts is at best like the train that runs in the underground tunnels in Gringott, you know the Harry Potter movie. My train roars high up in the air, goes all around, and arrives at totally unexpected places. As I swoosh past I can see some wagons on a side track that I absolutely should have connected too, and then it is too late. Then my train screechingly halts at an other sidetrack, picks up whats there and takes off in a second.
I can not rely on my brain to be calm, intellectual, always remember the right facts and knowing when to present the correct answers any more. At times I miss that youthful self-confident brain that thought life could be untangled through logic, books and exams. Reliable maps, that took you somewhere.
What I do know, now, even if I hate roller coasters , is that the jumble of life is not placed along a set railroad. To see it all, to discover all those crazy, funny, creative connections that I so love, I’ll have to come along on the bumpy line. My rusty thinking machine keeps taking me to the most unexpected places, and I love it!