The Stupidest Thing I Ever Said Was I Can Hardly Wait Until I’m Older
“Stupid Is As Stupid Does”—Forrest Gump
Listen. If I could hop in a time machine, I would warn younger me about bad boyfriends, sun damage, and that Toni perms eventually go out of style. I would also slap — and I mean hard — the words right out of my own mouth when I said, “I can hardly wait till I’m older.” I would also slap myself into not stomping down the hall to my room, and slamming the door to whatever parental rule I was raging against. A lot of slapping, I know, but it would be worth it.
Older? OLDER?! What was I thinking? Because apparently, I thought “older” came with a VIP pass to freedom, glamour, and maybe a penthouse apartment where I drank wine on the balcony while my personal chef whipped up risotto.
Spoiler alert: older comes with deep-seated nostalgia for the past. And we can’t get it back. The future is like looking in the rearview mirror — objects are closer than they appear. If that makes any sense.
When I was a teenager, adulthood looked sexy. No curfews, no nagging parents, no one telling me what to do. I pictured myself strutting through life in high heels, sipping lattes, and driving a car that smelled like new leather. I was a farm kid — small town, everyone knew everyone. I could not wait to get out of there.
I was so proud of myself for flying the coop at 17, and off to Uni. I would have the world by the tail by 18!
Oh the delusion of the youth.
Reality check?I noshed on chicken pot pie and cans of Chef Boyardee through college. I never did get the new car with leather until after 40 — and it was a Honda Civic. It was cherry red, so that should count for something, but a far cry from the Lexus, or whatever fancy car I thought I would be tootling around in.
There are moments in life that etch themselves so deeply into our hearts, they become the compass we carry quietly in our souls. For some, it’s the day we graduated, or the afternoon we fell in love, or perhaps the day our babies were born. For others, it’s simpler — a Sunday afternoon with the people they love most.
For me? If I could choose one day — or maybe a few weeks in time — to go back to, Mackenzie would be 4 or 5, my folks would still be alive. And the world is pretty peaceful. I was in year 11 or so of my teaching career. I was busy with the things that were important — or so I thought at the time.
I wish I would have slowed down. I wish I would have had a messier house. I wish I would have appreciated my body more. I wish I would have parented oh so differently.
The beauty of nostalgia is that it reminds us that happiness was never really about extraordinary circumstances. It was about the little things. Sticky handprints on the kitchen counter. Mackenzie’s first time on skates, her ballerina twirls in the kitchen that landed with a split chin and a few stitches. A phone call to Mom just to ask about a recipe — and to hear her laugh. Dad, telling the same story I had already heard ten times, but I let him tell it again — patience and grace with his dementia. The peace wasn’t global — it was personal. It was in the laughter across the dinner table, the security of family, and the simple joy of being present in that exact season of life.
We often think about the future as the destination, but the truth is, the past had its golden moments, too — times we didn’t realize were extraordinary until they slipped quietly behind us. That’s the lesson wrapped in this reflection — to slow down now, to notice the small details, to hold tight to the people around us while we can.
The transition from summer to fall always has had this sense of something over for me — and this year is no different. As the calendar slips from September to October…That feeling is just…here.
I’ve also learned the beauty of saying “no.” Teen me would bend over backwards trying to please everyone. Adult me? If I don’t feel like going to your candle-making party on a Tuesday night, guess what? I’m not going. And I’ll be in bed by nine, and blissfully happy with my life choices.
And naps. Good lord, the naps. You know you’re grown when a nap feels like a luxury spa day. Add in a good bottle of cheap red – and the joy of not caring if people “approve” of me — and suddenly, adulthood doesn’t look so bad.
So yeah, maybe “I can hardly wait till I’m older” was the dumbest thing I ever said. But in my defense, I didn’t know. I didn’t know that bills multiply like rabbits, that laundry is forever, or that adulthood’s main perk is having snacks in my own pantry without anyone stealing them.
If I could go back, I’d whisper to teenage me: “Slow down. Enjoy the free rent, the lack of back pain, and the fact that you don’t have to worry about mortgages and home maintenance.”
If I can’t go back to my teenage years because time travel doesn’t go back that many decades…I would go back and tell my young mom self and the career girl, “Enjoy this time. It’s fleeting.”
But since I can’t, I’ll raise my oversized wine glass and enjoy…today.
Colleen McCullough is the owner of The Virginia May Bed and Breakfast
at Eagle Mountain Lake. You can follow the B&B on Instagram and Facebook
@thevirginiamay
TheVirginiaMay.com | 817.739.3935 |
11671 Randle Ln., Fort Worth, TX 76179
