I don’t usually like to use this blog as a means of dumping my emotions. It’s not that I am particularly private… I just tend to like to bottle up my feelings until I realize that I’m crying because I forgot to bring raisins to put in my oatmeal. Which by the way, IS A BIG DEAL!!

However, I have been feeling awfully sentimental the last few days and I have not been inspired to use humor as a diversion from my thoughts… which is something I have usually mastered.

I can’t even really put my finger on what has been bothering me exactly, but I just don’t feel in control of many aspects in my life. I’m not trying to complain, for the most part I really do love my life! I have a job, I have the best friends a girl could ask for, and I make enough money to have a little fun every once in a while. It just feels like everything is changing- and there is nothing that I can do to stop it.

After going home to my parent’s house last weekend and ingesting a huge dose of nostalgia, I felt even worse. I had to go through a bunch of  boxes in an effort  to try to find winter clothes that fit, and I came across a bunch of old stuff… and everything seems to have a million memories attached to it.

I came across a box full of post cards from my grandparents, each one mentioning how much they missed me.  I spent a good thirty minutes reading the birthday cards from my parents and cousins. I came across poems that I had written for poetry contests, and crayon drawn pictures  that were supposed to be of the family dog.

After the first box, I turned into a madwoman. I pulled down every box from the top of my childhood closet and turned my room into a disaster scene of artifacts from my past. I found baseball cards that I forgot I ever “collected.” I found notes from my friends that had been folded and refolded so many times that the paper was soft. I read the entries in my baby book  where my mom had written me notes telling me about the time I took my first step, and how I let my friends open all of my birthday presents. I found a framed poem that a junior high boyfriend had written me. I tried on pieces from dance costumes that I wore a bajillion years ago. I flipped through dozens of photo albums of faded pictures, and dramatically ridiculous hair cuts.

Looking at the pictures from when I was a child, I couldn’t help but want to go back there.

I want to sit on the tacky blue furry couch that used to be in the living room. I want to cuddle up next to my mom, and have her read a Bernstein Bears book to me as she looks through her gigantic red glasses. I want my dad to bring fig newtons up to me in my tree house. I want to spend the afternoon “swimming” in a metal tub in my back yard, entertaining myself with My Little Ponies. I want to play barbies at the age of ten with my little sister, enjoying myself even though part of me thought I was a little too old. I want to look forward to a slumber party, and make up dances and build forts with my friends in the living room. I want my grandfather to pick me up from school in his Model T as I wave to my friends. I want to wake up in the morning and watch old Lassie episodes while my dad whips up cinnamon toast in the kitchen.

I know I can handle growing up. I will get through each hardship that life hands me, and I will become a better person for it.

But I can’t help but miss the easier times. I wish that for just one day, I could go back to being a kid- and not take advantage of how easy it is.

And also, only slightly related- I love this song. Brett Dennen has to be one of the best lyricist I’ve ever heard.

Related posts:

1. Dear Diary, I’m a lame-o
2. In which I go Bah Humbug on your face.
3. The scariest moment of my life (for once not an exaggeration) and why I am the worst person to be around when shiz goes down