I was talking with a friend today about music and U2. Hubby and I are going to see U2 this summer when they’re coming to our area. Finally! Their first show in Atlantic Canada ever, and we’ll be there. It can snow in July — I don’t care, I’m going!
Anyway, my friend and I were talking about how Mysterious Ways was the song that turned me into a U2 fan, and how I’ve wanted to see them ever since, but for various reasons it just never worked out, and I never got to see them.
Now, my friend is 16. (I seem to have a high number of friends in their teen years.) I became very aware of time when I realized that I’ve been a U2 fan for longer than my friend’s been alive. He proceeded to tell me that I’m not old, and while I don’t really feel old and I recognize that 32 isn’t old, there is something about your 30s that’s sobering. I imagine the same thing happens every decade hereafter, as well.
When I hit my 30s, I was excited about what my 30s would bring, but I also knew I wasn’t in my 20s anymore. And I know that sounds very derpityderp to everyone else, but I think it’s all part of this rite of passage we call life. We have moments where very obvious things hit us like we’re realizing them for the first time, and we have to take a few moments to reflect on where we’ve been and where we won’t be again in order to prepare us for where we’re going.
I told my friend when he got to his 30s, he’d understand the sobering effect of this age, and he informed me in his beautiful, wide-eyed, dreamer kind of way that by the time he’s 20, scientists will have come up with a way to stop the aging process, and he’ll stay 20 forever.
I didn’t think this was good for me at all. By that time, I’ll be 36, and I may not want to stay at 36. If I had a choice, I’d go back to 23. 23 was a nice age. Or at least, it’s a nice number to stay at. Aside from getting married, age 23 wasn’t a nice one for me. So then I changed my mind, and would like to go back to 18 when I was young and lovely and hadn’t yet gotten chronically ill.
But, I realized if I went back to 18, I wouldn’t have my Hubby, and the truth is that if I had to choose between being healthy and thin and being with my ex, or being how I am now and having my Hubby, I’ll choose my Hubby every time. I wouldn’t want to give him up. I also wouldn’t want to give up the life experience I’ve gained so far. With some exceptions, I like who I am and what my life is like, and I wouldn’t want to regress.
Now, if I could go back to a time when I wasn’t sick, but bring Hubby and knowledge with me — well that’s a different story. 🙂
This did make me wonder, though, what others would do if they could choose a time in their lives to revisit. What about you? What time in your life would you go back to, if you had the choice? Why would you go back there? What’s so much better about that time than how things are now, and is there anything you can do to change the now to be more like the then?
And probably the most important question of all: Would you choose to go back at all, or would you be losing too much?