When I was 19 an older friend looked at me with frustration and called me naive. It made me so mad. Just because I believed there was good in everyone and saw beauty in the world, THAT made me naive?!
In a week I turn 28, now I sort of know where she was coming from. Since I was 19 I have had my heart broken several times, lost friends, realised dream jobs were not so dreamy, been conned, been used, realised the world is broken, realised humans are generally to blame, have accepted some problems are literally too big, watched my friends battle for their relationships and as a whole realised happily ever after involves a hell of a lot of bumpy roads. In truth my 20’s have been a hard slap in the face, not overly traumatic by any means, but still enough to crush my “naivety”.
The problem is that too often I hear myself sapping the magic out of life. I do not believe in the fairy tale any more and so I whinge and whine about the “realities” of life. You know…now that I am so wise and realise the truth. I can not help but wonder though that if I am so wise why do I ache for the magic of being 19? I am not talking about the late nights, cocktails and wrinkle free skin. I am talking about the hope and belief that anything is possible, seeing goodness in the world, having dreams and really thinking they will come true.
Now I have a little person in my life who will laugh and coo with so much joy at what I can only figure out to be a ray of light on the wall. I love Boston so much it aches right down in my belly and it makes me really want to find that magic in life, because quite frankly I want to share it with him.
So this little rambling post on a public holiday night is me making a promise to wake up each day and look for my magic. It has been lost a while but I know it is here somewhere, I get glimpses of it and I think it is about time I stopped whinging about life and start celebrating it.