My Parents give some interesting looks into the old life.
And, they are great parents. Although, now I understand why they did the things they did. Tried to keep me sheltered, of course. Tried to keep me away from the potent things out there. Dad did not worry too much though. He never did. My mother, worried when I was a teenager, that sometimes I would not come home early enough at night from the clubs. Going to clubs at 15. No, not me... Oh well.
I looked like a 21 year old at 15. I was big, strong, and had a stach. A moustache. I still do. It is cause I am lucky enough to grow one, that I still wear it. I do not wear it long though. Short, and slim. Trim, and blim. Nearly stubbly. Not quite. My parents would worry.
Now, I worry about them. Old age, wondering when it will be the last time we talk about the old days. I am thankful they are ok, up till now. But I know time works against them, as it does us all. I can only say, try to gather the most important stories, history that you can from them. Listen to their wisdom, and try to understand where they come from. They are a vault of stories, from the amazing to the fascinating. I hope only to gain more stories from them, as the time goes by. Till then...