Getting older seems to be mostly about shrinkage—the spine curves, the hearing and eyesight diminish and things generally just get pulled down by gravity. Except for shoelaces. Mine start out at 45 inches long and end up somewhere around 58 where they get caught in the bicycle sprocket. The daily tying just seems to stretch them out little by little until they’re untenable, like Dumbo elephant ears flopping around.
And sunglasses—at least the $10 a pair kind I buy—seem to have a short shelf life before the flimsy plastic frame gets cracked and the “glass” falls out. Superglue could work, but who has patience for that anymore?
So while some days I carry big worlds on my shoulders—from social justice to spiritual awakening—today it was shoelaces and sunglasses. Such a pleasure to thread in the new ones that fit just right and break in the new sunglasses. And equally a pleasure to feel pleasure in small, tangible accomplishments that work and make sense in the face of everything coming down around us that is broken beyond reasonable repair and makes no sense whatsoever.
So simple— tie our shoes with the laces just right and see the world through new rose-colored glasses. Well, why not?