Seniority

Recently, I woke up and discovered I was a senior in college. Not only that...I am almost 22. The year 2007 once seemed so far away, but now it has come screaming in upon me like a runaway roller coaster, and I am left to ponder this new, mysterious place where I have been jettisoned. Could you expect anything else from a blog with the title "Musings?"

Many of my closest friends are now dating, engaged, married, or pregnant and I can no longer delay the unfolding of my own personal bildungsroman, (i.e. "coming of age" story for those uninitiated into the secret world of English majors). I have to chuckle as I try to keep the sand of my childhood from trickling out between my clenched fingers only to see it spill faster. I catch myself looking at a new batch of freshman and grining inwardly at their wide-eyed observation of their surroundings, like infants fresh from the womb taking in a new world. Wasn't I just one of them?!

Even now I must smile at the saccharine angst of this post. How funny I must sound to the weathered adults reading this post with so much more life experience behind them, trading knowing glances about the budding adult whose life has only just begun, If he only knew...
At the same time I have caught a glimpse of reality that feeds my hungry curiosity and tells me more than can be expressed here.

What of the girl on Wheaton in England whose path crossed mine for a brief span and then blinked away to a separate part of the universe like a comet circling the sun?...

What of the death of cultural icons, having braved countless jaws of crocodiles only to be silenced in the enveloping deep by a startled sting ray?...

What of carefree days where the only thing on the calendar was an afternoon of playground football?...

What of greying heads that once carried the world on broad shoulders giving way to a new generation of the young who rise and dip falteringly on new-formed wings?...

What of vibrant imaginations and dreams sobered by the contracting influence of adult reality?...

What of fears that no longer have a place and are quieted out of necessity, weaned by responsibility?...

Life is made up of changing seasons carrying us on in the current of time. There is much joy to be had and much sorrow to be weathered. Life is a gift we are given; it is ours to hold like a delicate snow globe, carefully between two hands, but never with reservation.