old soul

Today I traveled back in time. Well, sort of. That's what it felt like, anyway. I went to North Hall to peek on the yearbook and visit my favorite teacher, Mrs. Shirley, a habit I've developed over the course of the past few years. This was the first year that I didn't recognize anybody, because all of the girls on staff were in middle school when I was editor, except the freshmen, who were in the fifth grade that year. As Mrs. Shirley introduced me to the staff, my mind wandered. I graduated from high school three years ago. So much has changed. But when did it happen? I don't remember suddenly growing up, and although I know I'm a much cooler person than I was at seventeen, it's still hard to believe that I'm all grown-up, or nearly so.

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
Were still fighting it, were still fighting it.
-Ben Folds, Still Fighting It

As I listened to their carefree banter, I began to feel so... old. To be fair, I'd felt like a forty-year-old with really young friends all through high school, and even in college, I sometimes have a hard time relating to my peers. How did I expect to feel upon my return to the very room I spent the majority of my high school career in, what with this old soul of mine?

Everything seems to have changed: my taste in music, my sense of humor, my regard for others, my financial awareness, my hopes and fears, the focus of my academic and professional pursuits, my relationship with Jesus, you name it.

Three years doesn't seem like such a long time; it shouldn't be able to create such a vast chasm of age-difference, after all, two of my best friends are six years older than me, but these sweet teenage girls certainly did not feel like my peers. Don't get me wrong, most of the girls were juniors, which is the group I had at Disciple Now in March, and I loved spending time with them. They have such beautiful and sincere hearts, and I hope to move up with them this year, although I would love to have sophomore girls again. But I do not consider them my peers. I wouldn't seek accountability or solicit advice from them.

No, I've grown up. This makes me want to laugh when I think about how I skipped out to my car in the rain this morning in my hot pink gingerbread pajamas, pausing to splash in the puddles along the way. I can act so childish at times, but I think that being comfortable enough with yourself to act like a child is part of maturity.

The problem is, I don't really want to grow up.