Change

Isn't it interesting how much we change over time?
Of course, you change physically (I have a wrinkly forehead now, whereas I did not before, for example). But you change so much more, mentally.
For example, I found this little notebook in which a friend and I used to write notes back and forth to each other in high school. We talked about failed vocabulary tests (that was before we starting making "decorative" cheat sheets that we put in the front covers of those see-through binders -- sorry, Mrs. Giroux).
And we called our English class "Math, Art, History, English" class, until our teacher started making us guess what Latin roots meant -- then we called it, "Math, Art, History, English, Estimation" class.
Anyway, I was flipping through the little notebook and laughing at the funny things that concerned us in 11th grade.
"I'm getting used to the feeling of loneliness," my friend wrote after a boy she liked didn't like her back. Now, of course, she's happily married with two little munchkins. She has a ton of friends and a supportive family. She's not lonely these days.
And instead of discussing math and vocab tests and the whims of teenage boys, we discuss childrearing, discipline, quilting, and the whims of our adult husbands.
At dinner with three girlfriends over the weekend, one of them told us she went to visit some friends and saw their beautiful kitchen with beautiful pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and she thought, "Oh, the things I could do in this kitchen." One of the friends reminded her that several years back, she'd been in the same kitchen and said something about never cooking. Now she cooks dinner for her family every night and was saying what a treat it would be for her husband to cook more.
I wonder if, 15 years from now, we'll look back on our current lives and think how silly our thoughts and concerns were. We'll just have to see. Makes me think maybe I shouldn't take stuff too seriously (not that it's okay for Big Boy to whack me in the face at playgroup, but not to get upset when I pack it up and head out early because he whacked me in the face -- after all, he hopefully will not be doing that 15 years from now. And if he is, he'll be in jail so it won't be my problem).
Just so you know, we finally called our English class "Old English Math Art History Religion Science" class. Poor Mrs. Giroux.
But who cares? I know a few Latin roots, even though I don't have the cheat sheets any more. And aren't Latin roots helpful in real life?