Transforming

Listening (aptly?) to Iron & Wine's 16, Maybe Less.

I thought we'd gotten rid of our boxes but it turns out my husband had a few more, which my mother-in-law sent over the other day. It was amusing to read through what was in them: he was apparently quite the Casanova in his day, judging from the quantity of girls writing to him and the content of their writings. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised: at our high school reunion, a girl that neither of us remembered came up to him and confessed that she'd had a crush on him all four years. And I know that several of my friends had had such crushes on him as well.

I say that it was amusing to read through these boxes, but it was also kind of sad, the longing and pain that came through those notes, juvenile as they seem now: strangely, I well remember the pathos and all-out desperation of those high school years. For me, at least, it was a time when my sensitivities and emotions were heightening, after the slumber of childhood, but my maturity had not yet grown to match. I can't remember much of high school now, but I seem to remember that I spent most of that time very miserable. I had a parents'-worst-nightmare boyfriend (drugs, gangs, the works), my beloved dog developed stomach cancer and had to be put to sleep, one of my best friends deserted me over issues so petty it's embarrassing to remember - all in all, high school was not a good time for me.

But even though I don't remember it well, it doesn't always feel like that long ago. Maybe it was because I was reading through my husband's yearbooks, and those brought back some of the memories. We are, both of us, so different now. I have a hard time recognizing myself from back then. I think law school was really a transformative experience. Or maybe it's just the changes that come with age. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it helps, when you're afraid of where you're heading, to look back and see how far you've come.