Clint and I went to a concert Saturday night. But this post isn't about that. It's about people watching. It's about realizations. It's about a desire to go back even though I know it wouldn't be the same.
I had fun in college. I mean, I really had fun. I finally found my "fit." You know, the group of people that think like you and like you for who you are instead of who you might be trying to be? And I met my husband, a pretty big plus for the whole college experience.
But now I'm in my 30s with a job, mortgage, and two kids to take care of. Gone are the days of rash decisions and spontaneous road trips. Gone are the nights of complete abandon. And for a moment, as I stood amongst so many kids that are in the same place I was back then, I wanted to return to that time.
But here's the thing. It will end for them, too. Soon enough, they'll find themselves in their 30s. No longer young but not old either. Because no one can stay there. Even if you became the "career student," you'd eventually fall into the "creepy old person" hanging out with the kids. Time doesn't stop. Won't stop. And even though it would be lovely to step back in time for a moment here and there, I'd still end up exactly where I am before I knew what hit me.
And that's okay.
It's okay because I'm in a good place. I have a good job that I love (mostly). I have a good husband. I have two beautiful children. We have a nice place to live in a community I enjoy being a part of. Things are good. So what if it takes a bit more planning than I'd like to simply go to a concert or even out to dinner? That's okay. Because the best part of my day is seeing the smiling face of my 8 month old or listening to my four year old describe the robot we're going to build.
Going backwards isn't an option. And given where I am right now, I wouldn't want to. But it is awful nostalgic to watch all those kids running around with not a care in the world.