The Postscript: A New Path

A Journey of Discovery and Openness

Driving back to my parents' home from a state park on a beautiful summer day, I felt the familiar comfort of being with them. My mother sat in the front seat, while my father was in the back. As always, I had Google Maps on my car dashboard, following the habit of relying on technology for directions.

“We know how to get home!” my mother said, and she was right. She knew the way better than anyone else. “Turn here,” she instructed. But then, Ms. Google chimed in, “Turn in one-quarter mile.” Now I found myself in a dilemma.

“That’s wrong,” my mother insisted, meaning the direction given by the app. “There’s nothing up ahead,” my dad added, confirming her concern. “The turn is here,” my mother maintained. I wasn’t always the best daughter, so I chose to follow the route suggested by Google. I could feel the skepticism radiating from my parents.

As we turned onto the little road that Google had recommended, my father said, “You’re on your own now!” Then, Ms. Google gave another instruction: “Turn right in one-half mile.” Soon after, “Turn left in one-quarter mile.”

“I have never been here before,” my mother remarked. My father remained silent. “She’s taking us around the slow part,” my mother observed. Again, my father didn’t say a word.

Eventually, we emerged onto the road we would have come to, but earlier than expected, having avoided several slowdowns and traffic lights. “I never knew you could go that way!” my mother exclaimed. “We have a new route!” my father said.

In that moment, I realized once again why I admire my parents so much. My dad turned 91 this year, and although my mother might prefer I not mention it, she will be turning 90 later this year. It would be reasonable, at their age, to stick to the routes they already know. However, I have never sensed that either of them was done learning.

I know many people my age who believe they have everything figured out. They tell me how everything is downhill from here—whether it's about the country, their health, literature, or even the quality of baked goods. Everything was better in the past, and now we're all addicted to social media and reliant on the internet, with nothing good coming from it. These people aren't interested in exploring new routes.

I want to be like my parents when I’m 90. I want to be open to new routes, even if I’m sure I'm right. I want to be happy and surprised if proven wrong, as something better might show up. I want to stay open to new information, new stories, and new ways of doing things. I want to try a new dish, a new path, and a new idea. I think this is the way to live fully at 90.

My dad uses his tablet to look up birds, while my mom solves Wordle every day, sometimes consulting with her sister in California. They are better informed than I am about current events and attend more musical and theater performances than I do. They will be the first to tell you they are slowing down, but to hear them talk about it, slowing down doesn’t sound so bad.

“We’re not in a hurry,” my dad says.

“We don’t have anywhere we have to be today,” my mother adds.

And that’s why they are so much fun to be with. We have plenty of time when we’re together. We have time to find a new route.

Till next time,
Carrie

Photos and other things can be found on Facebook at CarrieClassonAuthor.