I was way off in my expectations when we entered the trampoline park for my six-year-old great-granddaughter’s birthday party. I had imagined a bunch of outdoor trampolines moved indoors, with admission charged for hours of fun.
Not really. There must have been fifty trampolines on a single platform, with children and adults bouncing in pure glee.
Music blared. The lights seemed to want to flash in rhythm with the jumpers. At one level, at least, it was pure chaos.
Over the next two hours, guests arrived—people of various ages, some I didn’t know by name. They, and the party itself, seemed caught up in the chaos. There was hardly a chance to mingle or visit.
My wife and I found ourselves on the perimeter, sitting on barstools at a small table filled with birthday gifts. We had each other to talk to, if we wanted to speak over the noise. And we could watch the little ones having what seemed to be the time of their lives.
I tried to have a conversation with another grandfather, someone I know who is closer to my age. We began with our usual banter before turning to what was happening in our lives. That lasted no more than a minute. Soon I found myself talking while his attention went elsewhere.
I understood. He was trying to be present to his family. But watching him, I could see that he was struggling to do that as well. There was so much asking for his attention.
I never felt dismissed. But I did feel left out. Not by him, but by the whole event.
I know birthday parties are for the honoree. Still, I had hoped for a little time with the family.
Looking around, I could see that not everyone seemed to feel as I did. Friends and family were finding ways to talk. Maybe it was easier for them. Maybe some were having the same difficulty.
Reflecting on the evening, I wonder how much of what I felt was about the party, and how much was about growing older.
As a great-grandparent, I sometimes find myself on the sidelines. There are times I want to join in, and times I don’t. I’m not always sure how I feel about that.
Showing up matters too. I knew I might be missed if I weren’t there. And I wanted to be there for my great-granddaughter.
But I could also have been content at home.
I’m still wondering about that—wanting to be there for her, while wanting to be home myself.
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Quiet Readings
These occasional reflections are part of Quiet Readings, a gathering place for noticing, wondering, and making room for what life brings.
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