Life is full of these transitions. So many of them. A fluid continuity of changes, some of which are irreversible. I don’t remember when I stopped being afraid that my shoelace was going to get sucked under the escalator, causing my body to follow, since my body is inextricably linked to my shoe, where it would be grated like cheese. I actually still think about it from time to time. But I think I’m just remembering when I used to think that. Or remembering the last time I remembered, if the science of memory is to be trusted. I don’t know when it happened. But it happened. A tipping point. One day I was scared of it. Apprehensive for the whole ride, because today could be the day. Then one day, it didn’t bother me much. It wasn’t a switch that went on and off. It was gradual. Like puberty. May have even coincided. There’s probably a metaphor here. Something about how there are lots of escalators in life that could be waiting to turn you into grated cheese. Or at least lots of escalators that can be perceived to be about to shred you. Really they won’t. But perception is a bitch. Lots of these escalators. Some will take you up and some will take you down. They all get you there easily. The price to ride is the fear. The price gets smaller as you get older.
The other part of that transition, though, I think the important part, in real life and in the metaphor, is the realization that, if you run into the myth, the escalator that will destroy life and limb, the lace-eater, just pull your foot out of your shoe. A lot of fear is like that. It’s based on a faulty assumption of irreversibility. Of course, if you just take the time to tie your shoes well in the first place, the risk is more or less mitigated.