it's been a nostalgic day.
driving from my beautiful ivins home *
into town always gives me throw-back memories, depending on the route i take. one specifically takes me back to my senior year of high school (a drive i made probably four times a day some days - when my senioritis had me skipping class more than most). another reminds me mostly of my very first
real job. it was a little (rather greasy) burger shop, complete with ready-made fry sauce and onion rings. how many times did i press the gas pedal a little harder to miss that yellow light so i wouldn't be late? more than a few, i'm sure.
today, it was
skyline drive. i could make this drive blindfolded, missing every pothole, catching every curve of the road. back and forth to and from the little community college, back and forth to my college job, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. i remember one specific day i made the 20 minute drive five times. different classes, different work schedules, forgotten lunch, no money to buy lunch, late-night trip to the "community-college-boyfriend's" apartment, and home again, home again, jiggity jig.
it seemed i was two years younger again. i found myself thinking about old professors (specifically the worst biology professor ever to step into a classroom and the best {and possibly most attractive} sociology professor in the realm of social science - not one missed class, not one late day... extraordinarily unusual for me. especially high school senior year). i remembered friday nights late in the visual arts building, and believe me i will
never forget the time the rats attacked me. but that's another story. i remembered that "community-college-boyfriend," and then i quickly remembered how glad i am that i'm not living in
two years ago.
lots of people write letters to themselves in the future. dear future me, dear future family, dear future husband, etc. i'm guilty. you'll find them stashed between pages in my journal, and yep - even here on my blog. lots of people do that.
but sometimes (most times), i wish that instead of writing letters to my future-self i could write letters to my past-self. they would look something like this:
"dear self, i know that you're running really late for class today, but trust me. please, please don't take center street. really, you can't afford that ticket. love, someone who's already been there."
"dear self, holding that guy's hand right now might seem like a good idea, but just don't. for once, don't ask for a reason, and just don't be so emotionally driven. love, a more logical you."
"dear self, i know you can fly through high school without trying much and still get into college. but take some advice from a poor college student and work a little more, scare your parents a little less, and actually try to live up to your intellectual potential. it might just get you further than you think. love, someone who would have appreciated a larger savings account."
i think this is why i write to the future version of me sometimes. it keeps me focused on what i'll think when i look back, keeps me critically asking myself
is this a decision i'm going to okay with in five years? because sometimes (most times, again), i look back on the past five or so years and simply wonder what in the world i was thinking. i know, i know. i was a teenager - cut myself some slack! but i don't want to cut myself some slack in another five years because i was
just a young adult, either.
yes, living for the present matters. but most times, isn't it a good thing to know what direction you want to be headed, too?
that's why i write to my future.
so.
future self,
tonight, i'd like you to remember what you think about when you drive down skyline. then remember what you think about when you drive down south campus drive, provo. look at the difference. and then look at what you'll be remembering in another five years, when you re-visit your current city (where ever in the world it might be). please adjust your life so the memories
that drive brings back only fill you with gratitude, with joy, and with a reverence for the past.
love,
a past nostalgic driver.
*into town: i've now been told a sufficient number of times that this is not a normal phrase. explanation: it comes from living out of central town, and the phrase is practically incurable. besides, i rather like the small town sound of it.
