I don't remember what I wanted to be when I grew up. Most people seem to remember the first thing they ever wanted to be when they grew up, I don't. Maybe that is a good thing, after all, most of us never reach the triumphant goals of our childhood, so by not remembering, I can't be disappointed. To that same degree though, maybe my inner child wants nothing more than for me to remember, maybe then we can start on a real path. Whatever the case may be, it doesn't change that I don't remember.
I feel like I am forgetting more and more lately and I don't like it. I realize that the memories are probably stored somewhere and all it would take is a picture or a conversation with an old friend to spark all the dormant memories, but what about the personal ones. The memories that were made in solitude. Memories that weren't shared with others or captured by cameras? How do you retrieve those? Do they just dissipate? I hope not, that would be a shame.
I remember being fifteen and walking around alone at night. Most likely doing pretty much the same things I do now 10 years later. Walking around, enjoying the peaceful night and feeling as if I am keeping an eye on the world while everyone else slept. Fifteen and feeling like I could save the world if it was truly asked of me. I remember sitting on the steps of a church, a church that would in only a few short hours serve as a bus stop for many kids of all ages. It was, in fact, the bus stop I would have been going to had I taken the bus or went to school for that matter.
Sitting on those steps, I remember feeling as if I was a part of something, a sort of oneness with everything. It seemed profound and it seemed important. The moment was very brief, almost as if it never even existed to begin with and perhaps that is what makes it stand out so much. I remember wondering if anyone else was feeling the same thing at that moment. Perhaps it was a collective experience, shared by all who were awake for it. I remember thinking that I hope that was the case, I hoped that the entire world would feel that in that brief moment. I knew that was probably not the case, it was probably just me, such profound experiences rarely seemed to also be shared experiences. Still, I remember hoping.
I don't want to forget that memory. It felt so important, but I had forgotten it. I forgot all about that night until this one. I was running and I had been pushing myself far too hard and far too fast, I needed to take a quick rest.
There was the church, my old, seldom used bus stop. I hunched over, hands on my knees, catching my breath, staring down at the steps I sat on 10 years ago. I remembered then, it all flooded back, I didn't feel the oneness, but I did feel a twinge of something. Maybe happiness, nostalgia, who knows, I wish it was the oneness again, but it wasn't. I was happy to remember it, but sad that I forgotten it in the first place. Happiness and sadness in the same moment seem to be following me around lately. I don't know if I will ever get used to that feeling, I don't know that I want to feel it enough to become used to it.
After remembering such a thing, I didn't feel like running anymore, I had pushed too hard anyway. I walked back home, legs a little sore, thinking and wondering about what else I had forgotten and when or if I will remember them. It was at that point that I realize I no longer remember what I wanted to be when I grew up. I guess it isn't really important, I haven't grown up yet so I still have time, but I wonder if something will ever jog that memory. If something does, then what? I guess I'd have to cross that bridge when I came to it.
I walked home, intertwined with the happiness and sadness. An almost perfect mixture of the two, but not in the sense that they canceled each other out, but more to the effect of each one being felt perfectly simultaneously. I hoped that the rest of the world was not feeling this way, I hoped it was an isolated experience. It was not something I wished others shared with me. I just continued walking, just wanting to get back to my keyboard now, but feeling no actual rush to do so. Now is sit here typing this, knowing that in doing so, I will never forget either memory. The one of a fifteen year old who felt at one with the universe and the one of a twenty-five year old that felt completely separated from it.
I am twenty-five and I feel as if I could save the world were it truly asked of me. However, in that moment, I questioned whether I would.
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