So, lately I’ve be cognizant of every hour that passes by. I’m not sure if it is because of the number of hours I actually study or if I will soon have to say I am forty-something. I yearn to stretch the period when I can still say I’m forty. When I first turned forty at the beginning of the year, I told people that I didn’t think of it as forty; I thought of it as “twenty-twenty.” It worked for me. And, dad gum it, it still does!

My unusual circumstances, being at my age and living on campus, gives me a unique opportunity to not only look at college life for the young generation, but it also gives me a reflective vision of what kind of person I was and what regrets lurk in my heart and mind. The hours move slowly, but once they are gone they are gone. I have no chance to return to that hour to finish reading my chapter instead of straightening up the dorm room. I don’t get to have breakfast when I get back in bed. The decisions I make with each hour that comes before me usually scare me. I hate when, after the hour has passed, I remember something that I should have done within that hour.

Simultaneously, I have found myself doing things that I would not normally consider; I have taken advantage of the company of those around me. I’ve delightfully enjoyed the wealth of intelligence that I surround. I have discovered things that I do and don’t believe just by hanging around people. When it happens, I am often thrilled to discover the epiphanies that come to me that immediately changes who I am.

Not only do I also realize the ways my childhood has made me the person that I am; I also have confirmed what changes I would make from my childhood to the childhood of any children that I may consider having. I’m a naïve person, but I have experience changes with my mind that have been molded inside and outside the classroom. I am grateful of these changes, yet I do regret what it has taken to discover what I know and what I need to know.

So an hour has transitioned since I’ve written this. I should have been working on my Spanish homework. Now I will be working on my Spanish homework instead of getting dressed for breakfast.

That hour will never return. I see it slip away from me like a fond memory.

Labels: My Opinion, My Writing