So, I'm lying in bed, trying to get to sleep, when visions of yesteryear bombard me with their rockets and their missals and their visual grenades, and all the while I'm wondering where the resurgence of emotions is coming from. I thought I put these feelings to bed eons ago. I was sure I'd moved past the broken glass of my past and lassoed a future free from the restraints of the woulda, the coulda, and the shoulda.
I don't mean to sound dissatisfied with my life, for the antithesis is true. Now that I'm teaching, I feel more fulfilled than I ever remember. I feel dignified. I feel important. I feel as if my life has purpose. In fact, I never thought I'd ever know what is was to be able to leave something behind. To touch or change someone else's life in a magnanimous way. But I have. And I'm doing the damn thing. So why the sudden craving to turn back the hands of time?
As much as I'd hate to admit it, I find myself longing for Pennsylvania summers, truck rides to nowhere, and the reassurance of someone who, despite their matrimonial circumstances truly loved and cared for me. I miss the Thursdays at the Pub. The closeness Liz and I had while we were bonding over Schoolboy Rock. I miss it all, and I want it back.
It may sound childish to say, but fantasy is not enough to sustain me, and I'm doing something about it. I'm not folding my arms and huffing and puffing. I'm not going to sit back and lot about the things which never were, and the things that will never be again. I'm going to "ride that train, I'm going to hop on board it."
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