This past weekend I went home to Kansas for my niece’s high school graduation. It was a lot of fun to watch her and her friends bubbling with excitement about their big day and what lies ahead. Most of her friends are going to college, some big and some small, but in talking with them, it struck me how they excitedly hopeful they all were.
Do you remember feeling like anything was possible? If you dream it you could achieve it? Opportunity knocks. If you built it… and all that jazz?
I do. I remember wearing that mortar board and itchy choir robe waiting for my name to be called, sitting next to a pretty girl named Summer and thinking about going off to college, majoring in journalism, becoming a journalist, traveling the world and at some point down the road having a family. I had it all laid out. And I was excited. And hopeful. And thirsty.
Now, about 15 years later, (gasp!) I’ve done those things and had a lot of fun. Tons of fun, but somewhere along my journey I lost that enthusiastic hope. I’m no Debbie Downer, in fact I consider myself a generally positive person, but I miss that carefree-everything’s-going-to-work-out-OK feeling.
A couple of my co-workers still have that attitude and being around them is like a breath of fresh air. One time I asked the guy how he was able to remain so positive, he just shrugged and said it didn’t make sense not to be. When I asked my other colleague, she just said she prefers to enjoy life. She admitted that she does get annoyed, she just tries to quickly let it go.
Maybe effervescent hope can go on my New Year’s resolution list of items to “Reclaim.” It’s going to take some work, less sweating the small stuff, less perfection, more perspective and patience. Wow, when I put it like that, it seems like a tall order, but I guess you never know until you try, right?