Like sappy song lyrics, these are the days of our lives
I was on my way to work today and listening to a local radio station that plays everything from Roxette to Nirvana. It’s my favorite station because it plays a lot of the songs I loved during my formidable years. One morning I was listening to the station while nursing Autumn and they played “La Bamba”; not the original Ritchie Valens version, but the Los Lobos version from the movie with Lou Diamond Phillips, you know, back before he became perp-of-the-week on “Law and Order: SVU.”
So this morning I again heard a blast from the past; Lisa Loeb’s “Stay.” I love that song because it’s actually in my range and I can warble along pretty decently until she gets to the “I can leave, I can leave” part. At that point the notes start getting caught in my throat and I either need voice lessons or a drink of water. As I was singing along this morning, I started flashing back to when this song was popular and for a minute I felt as though I was 22 years-old again. I was in the car by myself, having just dropped Autumn off at daycare. For just that minute I felt all the possibilities of being 22 and how foreign it all felt to my 34 year-old self.
One of the benefits of being that young is that you really think anything is possible, so much so that it’s impossible to believe otherwise. When I was 22, I just knew I was going to make things happen for myself. Like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, I was going to shake the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and see the world.
Wow. Was I really that person? Needless to day, I didn’t do everything I thought I’d do. This crummy little town is still my home, but that's not the tragedy I thought it would be. This is actually an ok place to raise a family.
So I’m not 22 anymore. In twelve years 34 will look a hell of a lot better than 46.
It was just really strange, feeling 22 again.
So this morning I again heard a blast from the past; Lisa Loeb’s “Stay.” I love that song because it’s actually in my range and I can warble along pretty decently until she gets to the “I can leave, I can leave” part. At that point the notes start getting caught in my throat and I either need voice lessons or a drink of water. As I was singing along this morning, I started flashing back to when this song was popular and for a minute I felt as though I was 22 years-old again. I was in the car by myself, having just dropped Autumn off at daycare. For just that minute I felt all the possibilities of being 22 and how foreign it all felt to my 34 year-old self.
One of the benefits of being that young is that you really think anything is possible, so much so that it’s impossible to believe otherwise. When I was 22, I just knew I was going to make things happen for myself. Like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, I was going to shake the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and see the world.
Wow. Was I really that person? Needless to day, I didn’t do everything I thought I’d do. This crummy little town is still my home, but that's not the tragedy I thought it would be. This is actually an ok place to raise a family.
So I’m not 22 anymore. In twelve years 34 will look a hell of a lot better than 46.
It was just really strange, feeling 22 again.
