today, as i sat outside in the backyard with the sunshine blanketing my tired self, reading "my sister's keeper," and painting some antique chairs for my mother, i found myself on the verge of tears.
nostalgia is such a strange phenomenon. how can a memory of something so good or somethings so wonderful cause gut-wrenching tears?
i miss high school (which is odd, i know). i miss my first college, greenville. weirdly, i miss when i was ill there--i have a chronic illness that was first manifested my freshman year at greenville, and yet that is still a time i look back to with fondness. i miss being a child, when i asked impossible questions because i really wondered what the answer would be; unlike now, when i hardly ever ask questions anymore, because i can either figure out the answer or i already know the answer. it's sad in a melancholy sort of way. i find myself wishing for nothing more than to throw off all social restraints and act childish again, peter pan style. can't we all take a lesson or two from peter? what is so great about growing up? i can't really think of anything that i like about the way "grown-ups" are supposed to act. there is something to be said for maturity, most definitely. but when you start tossing around words like "responsibility," "work," "mortgage," "priorities," it makes me want to just run far and fast down an unpaved country road and fall headlong into a sun-drenched field teeming with bumble bees and clover, and just lay there until i'm ready to get up and do something else. spontaneity is something grown-ups lose. and i don't want to lose that. ever.
