Could my judgment about my parents be right?

To begin with, I used the wrong word ‘judgment.’ I don’t really think this word applies to this relationship or else I am living a utopian life, which is as highly improbable as the thought that in this one specific cubic inch here is no bacteria. I have been proven wrong more than many times. I won’t relate the instances but would definitely dig into the reasons why?

I have a picture of my mother, since I was a kid. Young, energetic and receptive to all my thoughts and moves; I inherently feel she is still the same, inspite of her age. Many a times she will walk with me just to appease me (during my accident recovery period) and I can never comprehend how badly her knees hurt. I try judging her and say ‘Ma you should walk more often. The more you walk, the better it is.’ I said as I do everytime. Two questions for myself:

1.       Why do I think what works for me, works for her?

2.       Why is her image stuck in my mind?

And so goes with my dad. Why can’t I accept that he is getting old and needs more understanding? Why do I still exchange fire with him like I did until I first left home when I was 18?

I think I have sobered down a little, but somehow my mind is still stuck when my parents where young. Though I ask my mom to take it easy and my dad to be softer on himself, but I feel there is more to it. Perhaps, there is a momentum towards not aging. Even when slight physical ailments are creeping in these don’t find themselves in expressions (unless we have examples of extreme unconcern by people around forcing the old to be hags about their ailments) and the regular expressions mislead children like me who are still living in their teens (I am 31 now) to misread intents.  I for one principally live by ‘Go out and play’, but it doesn’t work when it comes to parents. Even when it comes to children, why are parents so afraid to let them fall? That’s discouragement to the extent of inscribing the moral ‘Be afraid of falling because when you fall you hurt yourself’ translated into ‘Be afraid of hurting yourself.’ Parents build that shell around children, and children in turn live lives in fear. I fortunately was never stopped from falling or hurting myself. And I reciprocate with the same zeal towards my parents. But now I feel that I can’t really reciprocate. I don’t what it means to be 53 and 63 years old. I will dismally fail at my attempts to make judgments because I shall never see those aging expressions on their faces. They still are my young parents and I am their infant, clobbering at things while I thump at my next step. ‘Walk with me mother, I don’t understand what a paining knee means.’