When waking up from a dream I don’t want to be in, there is that pivotal moment right before my eyes open that I realize how wonderful life is. Because I return to the comfort of reality. Not trapped in an eerie sub-world with a grey and pink cloudy sky.
Similarly, I sometimes forget how old I am. I often hesitate when people ask. In the milliseconds before I answer, my mind travels through different ages I could be. The most common:
“Am I seventy-five years old, with most of my life behind me? Is my body aged and limited by decades of wear and tear? Have I truly lived my life? Have I been the giver I need to be? Or have I lived my life selfishly?”
A millisecond later, the wheel has spun, and the arrow points to “28”. I say out loud, “I am 28”. Over a third of my life is finished, but that still leaves two thirds.
Like waking up from a dream, I realize I am still young, and I’m so grateful. The problem is, despite hearing “hold on to your youth” and “enjoy this while you can” from older adults, especially starting once I graduated high school, I can’t do it.
I can’t appreciate “the now” anymore than I already am and have been. In fact, I try to hold on to the present too strongly. And then it becomes the recent past. So then I’m holding on to the past and the present at the same time. Almost to a fault. It’s always been a part of who I am and how I think.
My senior year in high school for our “class prophecy” read aloud at Class Night, the day before graduation, my peers predicted that in 10 years I would still be living in Fort Payne, wishing I was in 1983.
I am a person known for my desire to want to freeze time. Or ideally travel back to my younger years. All my classmates were aware that even as a freshly turned 18 year-old, I romanticized about the 1980’s more than is humanly normal.
I feel time is going by too quickly and I’m not even 30 yet. Like the forced moving screen on certain Super Mario levels, all I can do is keep moving forward. And like love and money, there will never be enough time.