Anniversaries

Three years ago today I met the girl who would become my first real girlfriend (Second if you count Sammy). Two years ago yesterday she broke up with me. If the two dates weren't so close together, I doubt I would remember either of them now.

Three years ago, today fell on a Wednesday, and it was the first day of Freshman Orientation. Today is a Sunday, and I missed church because I was working on a project for one of my extracurriculars. I don't plan to make a habit of this, it just happened to work out that way today.

I got the last of my things moved in yesterday, thanks to my parents, and now I only need 5 books to have all of my materials for the semester. Three years ago today, I was a scared little freshman meeting my first roommate other than my brother for the first time. Two years ago today, I had already gotten over my relationship of ten months and was comforting the very girl who had just broken up with me the day before. One year ago today, I was having fun and eagerly anticipating "the Main Event" (which, this year, was yesterday--I didn't attend).

Every now and then, I like to think of anniversaries like this. Not the ones people really celebrate, but those that we sort of gloss over. Some people even try to avoid them. But I find that they give a greater perspective to my life.

Eight years ago today, I was silently celebrating the birthday of the girl I had a crush on, but didn't ever talk to.

When I think of anniversaries, I feel connected to the world as a whole. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, live isolated in the present tense. At all times I feel the twin pulls of destiny and heritage, of future and past.

One year from today, Lord willing, I'll be in Los Angeles.

When I think of people always living in the present, I feel sad for them. It isn't pity, but genuine sadness. No matter how happy they are, their lives are so small, because they refuse to acknowledge the past and the future as part of themselves. Already, my ancestors define who I am. Should I be so lucky as to have descendants, they will continue to redefine me for so long as my line perseveres. This is, in large part, why I am an optimist. In the perspective of so much time, what can my small problems mean? And with God guiding all of eternity, for what wondrous achievements might my small goods lay the groundwork?