My little brother called me today. He called to tell me about his plans and big dreams and to ask me if I thought they were at all possible. Of course, I told him yes, and, of course, I meant it, and I was surprised to find that all the while I felt like I was saying it too myself too.
I admit, even though he’s younger than me I wish I could be more like him. I wish I had his ambition, his energy, and his positive outlook. I think sometimes I need to hear from him as much as he needs reassurance from me.
(It’s nice to know he still needs me but being the oldest can make you a little bitter too. It’s hard not to have someone to give you the guidance that you are called on to give again and again. Life isn’t fair, but every side of the fence is green in its own way I suppose.)
Maybe as we age it helps to keep the younger generation close, to keep us hoping and dreaming with them. Maybe there is value in youth we lose sight of as we progressively value experience more and more. Maybe there really is something in each of use to respect, admire, and look up to, regardless of age, wisdom, life experience, or lack thereof.
These entries are inspired by the journal posts of Thord D. Hedengren