More Wonder Years To Come

I'm not sure if "the wonder years" is the right term, but I'm referring to those years your great aunt remembers even after she's forgotten who you are. The years sometime in the past where we were Somebody, when we were idealistic, when Amazing Things Happened, and Before the Children. For example, for my grandfather, I think it was the years when he was in Italy during WWII. On the one hand, I think it's innocuous for us to have those years and those stories. But I think sometimes a sense of nostalgia can be matched with a sense that the best things have passed, at least for Me As An Individual.

Although traveling with a baby has been hard and much quieter than travel before Noah, the travel has really helped me to get rid of the sense that some of the (common and less common) disappointments of my twenties represented a loss of The Best Years, even as I can't go back to the idealism of past dreams. Those dreams turn out to be less central.

Please do not be horrified by the frequent appearance of The Stroller in the following photos. We are still aspiring Hippies.

Part of this was seeing my Atlantic College roommates and houseparents. I have often looked back on AC- when the future was wide open, where we shared quite deeply of ourselves, and where I fell in love for the first time- and wished I could go back. Being together with Anna, Lia, and Kate made me feel as though we've all grown up and made choices, but that even better things are in store for us. My roommates (and Ray and Angie) only became more kind and more generous in the past years. It seems like our personal dreams are less important than I thought.

Part of this was traveling itself: Leaving our comfort zones, quitting my job, and traveling slowly. In our closing months in Boston, I felt so hopeful because we experienced that we actually do change- weird quirks and past hurts can actually start to feel better. By grace, I find that a pretty incredible thought.

Noah is preparing for The Worst.

And lastly, a big part of this is tied up with returning to South Africa. Returning to South Africa was one of the idealistic dreams of my late teens and early twenties. When I let go of it as something-I-absolutely-needed-for-my-life-to-be-ok, it somehow happened all at once that we moved. At the 12 years (and five of marriage) don't seem very long now that we're here. The intervening years weren't just waiting, they were Something.