Every so often, I find myself reminiscing about my younger days, when life felt carefree and spontaneous. I recall those late nights spent on my roof, gazing at the Kansas thunderstorms while chatting on the phone, the smell of the rain-soaked shingles still vivid in my mind.
I think back to the blissful weekends when I could stay up late without a care, knowing I had no early commitments the next morning. I could sleep in as long as I wanted, rolling out of bed at my own pace.
I remember cruising down country roads with the windows down, music blasting, inhaling the sweet summer air, and the occasional flirtations at stoplights.
Those leisurely mornings spent getting ready for the day—taking my time and still somehow managing to be late—are also etched in my memory. Shopping alone, wandering the mall, and dining out without interruption now seem like distant luxuries.
Back then, my worries revolved around whether a guy would call or who was dating whom. It wasn’t selfishness; it was simply a time in my life when I was free to focus on myself—spontaneous, romantic, and full of dreams. I had no idea how precious those days were until they slipped away.
Now, as I navigate motherhood, it’s easy to look back and romanticize those simpler times. I always wanted a meaningful life, but I never anticipated how profound that meaning would become in ways I never expected. I’m not out changing the world with the Peace Corps as I once envisioned. I haven’t traveled to distant lands or worked to solve global issues.
These days, I find myself interrupted during lunch to provide moral support during potty training. My life is filled with juice cups, diaper changes, and moments of exasperation when my little one decides to push all the boundaries. I make trips to Target just to escape for a moment, and my chores include spoon-feeding, sandwich-making, and laundry battles with tiny hands.
I wake up to the sweet sound of my child asking for cuddles and fill my days with the joyful noise of toddler songs and baby babbles. I’m showered with slobbery kisses and “I wub you too” from my little ones. I find beauty in the chaos, even when I’m skipping makeup or sneaking in quick showers, and my partner still finds me beautiful.
Sometimes, my thoughts drift back to those carefree days, lingering there for moments or even an afternoon, depending on how chaotic things get. But inevitably, I return to the present—my wonderful family—and I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.
One day, I’ll enjoy sleeping in again and might long for those little voices to wake me up. I’ll travel and reminisce about days spent playing Legos at home. I’ll miss the tiny clothes, the handprints on windows, and the joyful noise that fills my days. I’ll cherish the memories of carrying my kids in the cart, my bag overflowing with diapers and toys.
The days may feel long, but the years fly by. I might not have saved the world yet, but the dreamer in me remains alive, and the greatest dream I ever had is my reality. I am living it right now, and my heart is full.
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