If you’d been walking along the same river as I was this week, you may have spotted a 55 year old man walking his dogs, lugging a bright orange traffic-cone home. If you had seen him and asked why he was carrying it, I’d have been curious as to his response? Curious because the 55 year old man was I. In my head I knew why I was lugging it home. What I would have answered may have not corresponded to the truth.
Enter 8 Year Old Me
The boys (my dogs) and I were headed home, and as we South Africans have sadly come to accept, the river and it’s banks were littered with all sorts of rubbish that the recent rains had washed into the river from the streets and parks upstream. 3km from home we walked through a particularly litter-cluttered section where a bright orange traffic-cone had been deposited.
Without any warning, and from somewhere unexpectedly deep inside of me came a voice that I instantly recognised. It was 8 year old me, who had apparently also noticed the traffic-cone, and instead of seeing it as just another item that hadn’t made it to a landfill, identified it as a treasure full of all sorts of potential.
8 Year Old Me: Hey! Look at that traffic-cone. Quick! Pick it up! Let’s take it home!
55 Year Old Me: What? Sorry? Why? Of what value is a bright orange traffic-cone to us, um, er, me? And by the way, we’re 3km from home. Who do you think is going to carry it?
8 Year Old Me: Are you kidding me! Do you know all the amazing things we could do with a traffic-cone? Traffic-cones don’t come along every day. Imagine what our friends will say when we tell them we have one! And you’re going to need to carry it. You’re in charge of our body now.
55 Year Old Me: I’m not even sure we’re allowed to have it? What if we’re spotted with it? I’m pretty sure only official and authorised humans are allowed to be in possession of a bright orange traffic-cone (I didn’t really know, but something inside of me was sure we weren’t).
8 Year Old Me: Stop talking like an old man. Having our own bright orange traffic-cone will be awesome. Maybe the most fun we’ve ever had. You won’t be disappointed. C’mon. Let’s take it home!
Without much more thought, I picked it up and lugged it the remaining 3km home.
With around 1.5km to go I began to laugh out loud (at myself). I’d been wonderfully captured by the boyish enthusiasm of a younger version of myself. What 8 year old boy wouldn’t want a bright orange traffic-cone in his bedroom. What 8 year old boy wouldn’t get to school the next day and excitedly tell his friends of the treasure he’d discovered on the banks of the local river. What 8 year old boy wouldn’t instantly begin to dream of all the possibilities that are attached to owning a bright orange traffic-cone.
I am now a Proud Traffic-Cone Owner
I am now a 55 year old owner of a bright orange traffic-cone. It hasn’t made it to my bedroom. Well, not yet. It’s currently in the boot of my car. I’m going to hold onto it. I may never use it. I’m going to keep it, in the hope that the 8 year old me re-emerges, with enthusiasm and excitement at all the possibilities my 55 year old self no longer sees.
As my good friend Darren is well known for saying, “Life, she fucks you up!”. The journey of growing old is not for sissies. As so-called ‘adult stuff’ loads itself on you, it’s all too easy to lose the child that sees treasure where adults see litter, opportunity where adults see risk, and lightheartedness where adults see responsibility.
One Last Thing
If you’re ever in need of a bright orange traffic-cone, there’s a 55 year old who’s ready and primed for an adventure 🙂
