What I Wouldn’t Give to Be 19 (26, 37, 49, 65, 88) Again
Circa 198x
What a joy it was to be 19. So young and full of hope and promise. My whole life ahead of me. Everything a new experience. I didn’t know what I didn’t know—the bliss of ignorance. Oh, the mistakes I could correct; the fun I could have. But, the drama of being a teenager, the uncertainty, the pseudo pressure to be popular (or in my case, just not too nerdy). Yikes. Maybe that wasn’t the best age. Hmm…
What a joy it was to be 26. That was a terrific age. Newly married. Career on the rise. No kids. Less responsibility. Freedom to do whatever. But then again, I don’t remember doing “whatever.” What I do remember is the anticipation of being an adult with adult challenges and no idea how to solve them. A mortgage, a lawn to cut, a family on the horizon. And then my dad dies. And on the horizon: me, a dad. Really? Can we do this? Is our house big enough? Am I mature enough? Ugh. Age 26 was baffling. Life was better when there was more certainty at age…
Thirty-seven. What a grand time. Killin’ it in my career. Family is great. Big house, nice car, nicer paycheck. And with the big house, nice car, and nicer paycheck, somehow also less time and more pressure and still no certainty. And I’m no longer the young kid in the room. People expect more from me and are surprised when I don’t have the answers. Ugh, that was stressful. The pressure of the next raise and title; the pressure of young children and how to be attentive but not too attentive and—wait—planning for the kids college already? How will that work? And what if they don’t want college? Oh, man that was a troubling age. It was so much better…
At forty-nine. I was on top of the word. Family doing great. Running (age-group) fast. I knew so much and was at the pinnacle of my career. That was the best. But then I didn’t get the CEO job I thought I had wrapped up. Then I lose my job. What now at this age? Not really old but not really young. What can I look forward to now? Forty-nine. Not sure I want to relive that age; too much turbulence. So where is better? How about the future at…
Sixty-five. That will be it. Retirement. When I can do what I want and when I want it. It will be grand. Unless I lose my passion and direction. Get bored. Have nothing to get up in the morning for. I can’t paddle board every day, can I? Could it be better…
At 88? At that age I can reflect on a successful life and… and what? What if there isn’t a life worth reflecting on? Eighty-eight years of experiences… choices… moments. Were they good experiences? Were they the right choices? Were they worthy moments? Hmm. I wonder what experiences, choices, and moments I can live now to be a reflective 88-year-old me?
No better time to work on that than now.
Notes:
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