Thinking Before Thirty.

On the eve of my thirtieth birthday, I'm feeling, not nostalgic, but contemplative. I've been thinking about people and places that I miss or have missed. I'm allowing myself to remember and reminisce about the moments that, when they were occurring, I told myself I would never forget.

My Uncle Bob. Specifically my Uncle Bob wearing this leather jacket. Three months after he passed away, my dad showed up to one of my high school soccer games wearing this jacket. When I quickly glanced over from the field and saw a flash of red-brown leather, I could have sworn it was him.

I sure loved my Uncle Bob.

London. Is it possible that I can so deeply miss a place I've only visited three times? The smell of rain combined with bus exhaust always transports me back.

Out west. My first distinct memory is from our family's 1985 trip out west in my grandparents' RV. We were somewhere where the sky is big and cattle outnumber people when, with the windows of the RV fogged with condensation, my sister taught me how to write my name. I remember lying in the bunk above the driver and passenger seat, watching my her spell my name, and then tracing back over it, my tiny index finger pressed firmly to the cold glass.

Hackettstown versus Chatham girls' soccer state playoff game, 1996. Long story short, this game went into extra time and then penalty kicks, and, as a sophomore, I was chosen to take the first kick. I don't remember much, if anything, between the time my coach said my name in the lineup and when I saw the ball hit the back of the net. But the moments after I scored were in slow motion. I remember looking into the stands, at my dad, who was standing, smiling and cheering. I remember my friends jumping up and down, clapping and screaming. I remember my teammates rushing toward me. It was the first moment in my life that I experienced time slow down enough for me to take it all in.

Chicago. For better...

or for worse...

I missed Chicago every single day I lived in Baltimore. And not in the way that, when in a new place, one sometimes wishes they could go to their favorite old haunt, or think about the convenience of a nearby store or living near the train. I deeply, achingly missed Chicago. It physically hurt. When we moved to the DC area, all seemed right with the world again. We were back in a city we loved, were able to get around on public transportation, and again lived near family and friends. But every now and then, my longing for Chicago will arise. I'm not sure what it was about this city that captured my heart. It may have been that it was the first place hubs and I lived as a married couple; that our apartment was huge, gorgeous, open and in the middle of everything; that I made the strongest friendships of my life there. 

There are other moments I have distinctly remembered recently for the first time in years. Playing UNO with my cousins in the game room of the beach house we used to rent in North Carolina. My mom blowdrying my hair when I woke up sick and took a shower in the middle of the night. The smell of the 300 square foot studio apartment I rented in Bloomington the summer before my senior year.

Here's to more of these memories, big and small, freezing, lonely, full, sleepy, awake, alive, ecstatic moments.