There are a many transitions in our lives.  The first birthday, the first bike ride, the last diaper (not in that order necessarily). However, there is one that affects both the transitioner and the transitionee. 21.

21 is the birth of the adult. Well maybe not the birth but at least the bar mitzvah. The coming of age. We can die at 18 in war (16 at home if we include driving) and vote as well. But the full regalia comes at 21. Kill someone and it’s capital murder (unless unless you are 11 and black then the age thing is less relevant). But it remains a line in the lifeline sand. 21.

It might be the one time in life when you realize both fallibility and infallibility at the same moment. I can drink until I die and oh my god I drank and think I may die . . .   (Your dream-home bathroom is never the same). And as parents we relive our own experience of 21 and think, “oh my god isn’t that cute” while at the same time thinking they could die. Parenting is hell in heaven.

As we search for the balance between the giving and the forgiving we learn that all we have done has some effect. They are different than they were. Having to navigate the left and the right – the up and down – the inside and the outside – the wrong from the not so wrong – they learn.

It’s like that with us as well. The model of learning doesn’t change but our ability (willingness) to does. Life is a lesson for those who chose to learn it.