I always thought that I would be a misanthropist when I grew old. I had visions of myself existing as a bitter recluse, overrun with cats and believed to be a witch by the local kids. I imagined myself shaking my fist at them as they ran screaming away from me, my pointy nose and wild hair adding to the local rumours about what I got up to in my hovel.
Turns out that – despite the pointy nose and wild hair – my personality as an older person is pretty far from that. Over time I grew out of my bitterness at the cards life had dealt me, and I am now known to be almost always smiley and happy. I help my neighbours, I smile benevolently at stroppy toddlers and I give to charity. Nice toilet paper, a good book, and a cup of tea makes me almost skip with joy. As a teacher I am endlessly patient, as a wife I am very easy-going and calm. I am not sure how that happened, or why. I certainly did not imagine this in the autumn of my life. My personality when young was way more negatively inclined.
I love hearing children screaming and shouting as they play, and I smile when I see loud rowdy teenagers jostling each other on their way home from school. Life becomes so hard when you are an adult, so it is always lovely to see young people who don’t know that yet and who believe the world is still at their feet. There’s time enough for them to learn the tough parts later. I still don’t like badly-behaved people though. My pet hate is parents who let their small children rampage through toy stores and supermarkets, while said parents are talking to their friends on the phone. So maybe I am a teeny bit of a misanthropist still, and I still shake my metaphorical fist to the sky now and then.
PS did you know that the opposite of misanthrope/misanthropist is philanthrope/philanthropist? I only discovered that recently.
