I often feel I’ve missed out on things. Events, weekends, whole seasons often escape me with my having realized until after. Fall more often than not slips away. I notice the slight yellowing of the leaves and tell myself to mind the trees, watch them turn, and then when I look back up at them, they are naked.
I started school this fall. After close to a decade I am back in an uncomfortable desk. Between 7 classes, work and the baby my free time is not existent. My days filled to the brim.
And for some reason, that fullness has slowed time. Every minute soaks in like a slow drip on a large towel. I watch leaves turn on my drive to school. I watch Mason turning into a little person.
Being back at school has made me feel both old and young. I barely remember being 18. Having no responsibilities. Having too much to drink, and too much fun. I know my schoolmates can’t fathom my life either. How I go home and cook dinner for my husband and son. How I don’t display interest in making friends. How I don’t wear Uggs and leggings.
But filling my brain with knowledge for the future, that makes me feel so young. I am no adult. With my schoolgirl insecurities shining through as I worry I’m not smart enough, or dedicated enough for this. I’m worried I’m not finding the right balance, worried I’m neglecting my son, or my husband, or my schoolwork. I’m worried I’m too old for this. Worried I missed the boat a long time ago and even though I’m set on swimming, I’m really just treading water.
Every day, more leaves pile on the sidewalks, and the temperature dips farther down. And every day, I tell myself just one more day. Not 6 days more until my weekend, not 4 more years until I have a degree, not 17 years until my son is a man, not a lifetime of being a wife. Just a day. Just one day. All I need to do is make it through the day, one day at a time.