Reflections in the Forest

While walking with Nina and the dog through some nearby woods today, the following notion came to me, unbidden: Adulthood is the sadness of understanding that feelings, grandiose and overwhelming, ultimately mean very little.  Adulthood, that is, consists in the unavoidable primacy of mere behavior.  When what you do is more important than what you hope or intend or can imagine, you're officially old.

Where did that come from?  I have no idea.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that a character in a story somewhere is going to have a similar revelation very soon.

In any case, wherever, whoever you are, here's hoping your Christmas has been decidedly child-like.