Lately, I’ve put so much consideration into answering that question,
probably more than I should. What I’ve figured out is that it’s a popular question
to raise, but it has no quick answer. I woke up last Saturday and spent the entire day
and night with my best friend Alli, and I felt like I was 18 years old again. We ate
and drank more than we should, spending the whole day outside at cute little
places downtown, and laughed as we realized that I’m 26 pushing 30 and it was 8 years ago that we were college roommates. I wondered where all
the time had gone, but I didn’t want to sit there and analyze that. I spent the
rest of the weekend hiding behind the blissful clouded vision that if I could just hang on to every piece of the night and pretend that tomorrow is so far away, it would feel real. As she and I said many
times (and louder as our buzz got stronger), “today is the BEST day ever!” And
it was.
Monday morning I woke up realizing it has been two full
years since my boyfriend & I closed on our house. Again, where has the time
gone? Two years, or even eight years will pass in the blink of an eye, but when
you stop and think about it, those years are everything. It's impossible to answer where the time went in just one word. It’s millions of laughs, thousands of
tears, hundreds of inside jokes, and dreams, and mistakes, and secrets, and
nights you’ll never forget, or never remember. I then decided that life shouldn’t
be counted in years; it should be counted in moments. If we counted how many perfect
moments we find ourselves in rather than worrying about the fact that we might
not find ourselves in them again, I think we’d be a lot better off.
As I sat under the hot sun on that Saturday afternoon
sipping a Blue Moon and talking with my best friend, I realized something that I didn't even mean to realize---The more
we stop wondering what comes next and what happened to get us where we are, the
more comfortable and less confused we will be.
Cheers to that.
