And Then We All Grew Up

I’ve been feeling hella nostalgic lately.

With one high school best friend’s pending nuptials next month and another high school best friend coming home early from the military last week, I just have a lot of feelings. I feel old and young at the same time. I am definitely not the same person I was seven years ago… or even a year ago. But I’m not quite sure about who I’ve become. It’s all very meta and very existential.

Last night, a big group of us got together for dinner at Downtown Disney. It was a pseudo-homecoming celebration for my friend who just got out of the Air Force. Even though he just got home, he leaves for a contract job in Afghanistan soon. Sitting around a table with people I literally grew up with as we talked about college, relationships, jobs, and traveling over beers was so surreal. I was trying to be in the moment and enjoy it all. But it was also a lot to process.

I still have very distinct memories from high school. But also, those times are not as vivid as they used to be. I can remember events and jokes and milestones. But I don’t remember details anymore. I’m starting to forget people’s names. It’s weird, this whole growing up thing. This whole memory thing. My memories are probably the most important thing to me. I attribute this to being/wanting to be a writer. My memories are a huge source of my material and inspiration.

So what happens when I stop remembering?


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