In My Room

I'm in the hometown visiting the parental units for a few days, sans husband, sans dog, sans any reminder that I'm not still 17 years old (except perhaps the stray gray hairs and the wrinkles around my eyes). Back in the house I grew up in, back in an old familiar bedroom, one seen through the eyes of a child, a teen, a young adult and now someone older and wiser. *sigh*

It's odd to think about the passage of time, all the water that has drip drip dripped into the ocean of years. When I find myself lying in my old childhood bedroom at night, it almost feels as if time doesn't exist, yet it does.

I think of the thoughts I used to think from this room when I was 10, 14, 17. I wondered what life would bring, what places I'd go and people I'd meet. What I'd be doing later in life, how things would turn out. And here it is, back for a visit to this old room, to report back on the sights and sounds of life. Is there disappointment? Sure. Nothing is as good as anticipation. But I have been to lots of places, met lots of people, seen the world, lived, laughed and found love. I suppose those are the things that really count at the end of the day.

And I do still have my precious parents. Who knows for how much longer. God has blessed me with their presence throughout my life. And here I am once again, escaping the burdens of adulthood for just a few days with them. Indeed, it feels good to be 17 again.