Musings: On Growing Older

I was at my cousin's house today and for a while I kind of zoned out staring at the wooden railroad set up on the floor for her two year old son. It's a very cool set-up with lots of stops for the train to make and with moving parts at the various locations. It cut me like a knife to remember my own times of crawling around on the floor with my toys and my imagination - to realize that those times were long over and done with. For a second or two while staring at the little train I could almost catch the magic and see myself down there on the floor making the train move from stop to stop and imagining the scenarios I might've created if this were a lifetime ago, but that particular brand of magic is always fleeting after we grow up and I couldn't sustain it no matter how hard I tried. I almost wish that Alzheimer's or dementia could come with a return to that slice of childhood in which one could relive the magic that's stripped away as soon as one comes to know that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy aren't real. It might make drooling on one's self and using diapers again bearable, and losing one's mind a bit more comforting.

Anyway... That must be why the good Lord gave us dicks - for us to amuse ourselves in adulthood. Once you know what your cock is for, you don't clean up the floor with the knees of your OshKosh B'Gosh overalls anymore. The only magic that's left when you grow up is sex, and thank God for that. But, every now and then when nobody's looking, I really want to get down on the floor and work the train sometimes.