Got to Get It in My Head, I'll Never Be 16 Again

I’m waiting to live, still waiting to love
Oh, it’ll be over, and I’ll still be asking ‘When?’
- Dodie “When”

I recently had a conversation with a dear and close friend about what many would call a classical mid-life crisis. Now, for perspective, we are both in our early 30’s and generally healthy. However, “mid-life” really takes on a different meaning when you have a parent die at 40 and lost too many friends younger than that to suicide. At the same time, I am thankful to have friends and family that are well into their elder years past 70.

This friend that we’ll call Maria and I didn’t go down the morbid rabbit hole of impending death and doom. We’ve certainly had those conversations over the years, but this was not one of them. Looking back on life from the perspective of mid-30’s offers new understandings of life and the decisions we made. I can now see the outcome of decisions, plans, work, success, and failure on a larger scale. I can feel in my soul how long 10, 15, 20 years without someone aches and pains me.

Memories are tricksy little hobbits that change and evolve over time. They feel so close that you can almost reach out and touch them. The way someone smelled. The Tide laundry detergent they used. Holding hands while driving in my car. I find myself constantly listening to the same 11,000 songs in my iTunes library. Some songs I have never heard buried deep within the records. Many songs take me immediately back to being 19 and heels-over-head in love or devastatingly heartbroken.

I remember a project my seniour year of high school where we had to write a letter to our future self. I remember it so vividly, and I’m positive I have it in a box still. One of the most difficult things I’ve found myself dealing with lately has been the passage of time and getting older. In some ways it breaks my heart to know I can never go back and give my younger self advice with the life experiences I have now. I can never write a letter to my younger self, though I’ve tried (here). I wonder what I will say and feel about this essay in another 10 years.

My Independence Day

Salt, Sweat, Sugar on the Asphalt