I have always admired my mother’s youthfulness. Her ability to relate with me, my friends, cousins, her students has always amazed me. She can be such fun company to be around, to discover with, to learn from and have for a buddy.
At the end of the day, however she is my mother. I know that. I don’t need to be reminded. She has her place. I have my limits. I can go so far with her, but then I can only go so far.
I don’t know how she maintains that balance.
I find people around me wanting to stick to such youthfulness. I love to see their excitement at little things and the smiles on their face like a five year old who just got ice-cream. When that youthfulness starts to border on immaturity, it really bothers me. Sometimes I cannot tell, if this person is being funny or stupid.