I got home from work last night giddy from my successful presentation. "Oh yea," I thought, and probably, ok....did say out loud, "I rock." I was poised, articulate, appropriately funny. Heavens, I gushed, I'm so good. And I'm so young to be so good. I sauntered in the door and E said there was a voice message for me from a very perky person who said something about "high school reunion." Actually, the words "20 years" were somewhere around the "high school reunion" words. High school reunion. 20 YEARS. Same sentence. Not, you're "20," you won't have a high school reunion of any significance for 3 more years, but "20 year high school reunion."
I. Am. Old.
I remember so vividly, so clearly being 18 years old and graduating from high school, heading off to college. I remember the yellow leggings and long matching yellow t-shirt with decorative sparkles (it was the 80's, people) I wore on a date with my cute California boy fling the summer after I graduated. My gaggle of high school friends. Big Hair. My zippy little Honda CRX. Black of course. The promises to always stay in touch, to visit one another, the butterflies in my stomach about what was to come. Who would I be? And would I ever be 21? On my own. On. My. Own. An adult.
20 years. Graduation from college. Marriage. Divorce. Sadness. Guilt. Hope. Joy. Law school. Love. Marriage. Success. Travel. Float-on-a-cloud-happiness. So much life has been packed into 20 years. But yet, I remember it like it was yesterday.
I'm not nostalgic for my teens or twenties. From a very young age, I chafed at the boundaries of being young and dependent. I wanted to drive, to make my own money, to live in an apartment, to travel, to be the boss of me. I wouldn't trade me now for an 18 year old me in a million years, except of course for my 18 year old eggs. (I just chuckled out loud thinking of how immature I was yet utterly convinced of my maturity. Silly girl. )
But still, 20 years.
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7 comments:
Doesn't matter if it has been 20 years. I'm sure you are WAY cooler now than you were at 18. And you so rock!
crazy, isn't it? you've sure packed a lot into those years though!
I wouldn't be 18 again if you paid me. Okay, maybe if you lent me the yellow leggings, I'd consider.
I often think back, too: what if I had tried to get knocked up back then?
But then I remember the men I was into at that age. And I feel that whatever happens, I made the right call.
Rock on, Melanie!
I'm with you ther girl. The only part of my "youthful" days that I look at with longing is the oh-so-reliable reproductive system I had back then. Here's to 2 decades on living; laughing and loving
Ditto Gracechild.. you couldn't pay me to go back, but I would love to if only for the sake of being a young mom. But then, that would probably stink b/c I wouldn't be as poised (snicker snicer) or as mature (snort) as I am now.
20 years seems like such along time, how freaky. So are you going to go?
I'm totally with you btw - the only thing I would want from my 18 year old self is the eggs. I wouldn't even bother trying to talk any sense into her - she wouldn't listen anyway.
20?!? Yes, I found myself asking the same question this year. No, I wouldn't go back and relive those years, but I wish I could go back and talk some sense into the stupid girl I used to be!
Have fun!
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