Blast from the Past

I’m not sure why I’m feeling so nostalgic this evening—what exactly is motivating me to be writing this at 11:24 p.m. instead of being in bed, beneath my feather tic, listening to the rain drum on my cheap ass single pane windows. I watched my three favorite shows tonight; my old Sunday night ritual. The first time I’ve watched them all since their premiers this fall. Seems like every Sunday night the past two months has been filled with something.

I can’t blame it on my birthday, having been almost a month ago, or the fact that my 20^th high school reunion was on Halloween weekend. I didn’t attend, instead figuring I’d start saving for the many plane tickets we may have to purchase in the next year to bury loved ones. Hopefully not. But you never know.

I can’t even say that it’s the rain, although rain has always made me pensive—made me want to light candles and sip hot beverages in thick mugs while ensconced in my warm fuzzy robe and slipper socks. I lead quite the exciting life. Maybe it was the other night, celebrating with my neighbors over red wine and Chinese take out. That relationship where I can be me and funny and relaxed and family and a guest all at the same time when I’m in their house. Maybe I’m just tired. Or going to start my period.

Maybe it's the fact that my son is 11 and he’s edging his way into his first big life lesson which will officially hit sometime in the next week or so, rendering the next four and a half weeks of my life a living nightmare. And though I’m lamenting the nightmare, I’m mourning the gradual loss of my baby boy and my influence over him while at the same time being so excited he’s finally going to learn to fly. Well, at least he’s taking the leap. This first drop is going to be a doosie. But in all actually it just feels high from where I'm sitting. It's a new perch for me too.

I’ve been known to get sappy at times like these. Late at night when I’m tired. I’d probably write an effing amazing novel if I could channel my words to explode between the hours of 11 p.m. and 3 in the morning. That’s probably one of the reasons I’ve yet to write this novel (to be honest, I’m 1,300 words in but it  hasn’t really progressed past the ovulation stage…my novel that is) because I’m sleeping away my creative genius hours.

But these came to me tonight so I thought I’d make a blog post about them. Things I miss about being a kid. Being young. now that I'm waxing nostalgic, I may have actually posted a blog like this before. It feels a little familiar, though I can't truly remember. Oh, there are plenty of things I adore about being OLD, don’t get me wrong. But that’s another blog post. I have to eek out my ideas when I get them. You know as well as I, these essays have seen more prolific seasons. (What am I averaging these days…two posts a month?) Crap.

Anyway. Here’s my list. In no particular order. I miss:

• Being able to eat a fast food hamburger, fries, and a coke without indigestion and gas.
• My memory.
• My metabolism.
• Sleeping through the night without having to get up to pee four times. I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night.
• Sitting down to a table full of food I didn’t have to cook. Every single evening.
• Being able to stay up until 2 a.m. and still be not only functional the next day, but downright chipper.
• Believing in Santa.
• Being able to pick something off the floor without bending my knees.
• Being able to sit on the floor at all without pain.
• Not having migraines.
• Waking up on December 26^th to a Christmas tree surrounded by wrapped presents; not being the one who put (and wrapped) them there.
• Thinking my grandparents would live forever.
• The simplicity that comes before knowledge.
• My size four arse. Only occasionally though.
• Being a self-assured, confident, loud, ignorant teenager. And I wish I could have bottled that chutzpah and sold it, becoming a millionaire.
• Designing new outfits to wear each day. More than that, the time I had to devote to such creative endeavors.
• Journaling by hand with a medium point blue ball tip pen.
• Reading all the V.C. Andrews books thinking those were the worst things that could ever befall humans. How little I knew!
• Listening to my father play the piano in the evening while I was in bed.
• Talking to my mother while she sat at the end of my bed every night flossing her teeth.

There are so many more. But age has caught up with me once again. It’s after midnight and my eyes are closing, even if my mind is still racing. I miss that too. I miss being able to sleep when I go to bed, instead of lying awake thinking about to-do lists, paying bills, marketing myself, or finishing projects. And there is a three year old waiting for me in that bed, who’s been up the past four nights coughing and generally being miserable.

So I’m going to go to bed now and snuggle with that hacking child, just so I don’t end up writing about missing moments with my children. You know, when I’m old and looking back on being younger.

Weigh in here. Tell me I'm not alone. What things do you miss from your younger days?