wistful

That’s me today, wistful.

No, I’m not longing or regretful or pining for something different.
I read some silly saying the other day;
Every woman should have a youth she’s content to leave behind but a past juicy enough that she’s looking forward to retelling it in her old age.

It made me feel kind of nostalgic. Of course there are some things about my juicy past that I don’t care to admit but there are many other things that make me sigh blissfully. One of the best parts of growing older is that you’ve chosen to keep only the nice memories of the best old flames. Believe me, I know it wasn’t all sunshine, rainbows and blue birds, but the passion of youth is exciting to recall.

Things like your first crush,

the very first kiss that counted-you know, the good kind,

your first “car” date,

(that doesn’t mean the first time you did it in your car either)

your first love,

when you got your first place with someone of the opposite sex,

your true love,

the first sleepover,

that feeling when you knew, this was the one,

when you said, “I do”.

I was looking at a picture of my first love over the weekend. I thought, “I remember you. In another life I loved you with the reckless abandon of a 16 year old girls heart.” It was a nice feeling – that memory. I don't look back on those memories often but when I do, for the most part, they make me smile.