Summer's Idle Hours
I just had a sudden and intense longing for the summers of my youth. I think I am 10, maybe 12. Mom was trying to get us out of the house on a regular basis. We had a pool club. The heat was oppressive and saturated. I remember thunderheads dyed deep purple against the defiant sun. They seemed as tall as mountains.
Nostalgia for lost youth is nothing new to me. It's a recurring thought, although when I do think about it it is often in context of how much more I could have if I had spent my college years more productively. How much more does a man need anyway? I suppose I could be more secure. A little less worried about my career. A little less worried about how my sons will earn a living. Who can say?
It's just a feeling. A wistful longing for something that will never happen again. I wish I had been more adventurous and less timid. Maybe I can model that for the kids. Maybe not.
My son seems to be in a hurry. I hope that he doesn't look back on his youth with wistful longing, thinking that he could have spent all those hours better.
Was I a happy kid? Sometimes. Frequently no. I had trouble making friends. Not the most trouble, but some. I took other kids' hurtful words too much to heart. I didn't know what to do with them. I didn't know how to not get hurt. I always looked inside to find what was wrong with me that they would talk to me like that. It never occurred to me that something might be wrong with them. It didn't occur to me until I was out of college and starting a life with the woman I would marry that there wasn't something fundamentally wrong with me. It's not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live.
All this pining for missed youth is pointless. I can never go back. I can't even protect my kids from making the same mistakes I did, though I feel doomed to try. All I can do is look forward. Try to seize life a little more. Allow more mistakes, make a little more mess. It's a work in progress.