About every three or four days this summer, the Massachusetts heat would culminate in a thunderstorm. One night a week I'd roll the host stand inside and spend my shift in the dim, air conditioned bar. A few days before my 27th birthday, Jesse (the bartender) put on this song from the Lorde album. it feels so scary getting old.
For February (and most of 2013 really) I couldn't shake a feeling, somewhere deep inside me, that I was almost dead. Not as a metaphor ... in real, existential terms. Scientifically, a third of my life is almost over and aging, it will never never stop.
For my whole life, I'd had this image of being 30. It was like a plateau. Time would pause. And all the things that I imagined for my life - the house with the built in bookshelves, pushing a stroller through the farmer's market - I'd live them. Around 50, time would start again. My hair would go gray.
Because that's how it looked. That's how I saw my parents when I was a kid. They were constant, until one day they were old. But, the closer I get to the meeting point (to the point when my memories start, to the first image of my parents) the more I feel certain that time was only constant for me back then. For them, it was hurtling by.
I felt - and I have felt, for the last two years - that it was all already over.
But this summer made me feel young again. It sounds so silly, but all those evenings spent standing on the patio in a pair of cut-off jean shorts returned me to myself. I owe the brewery and my friends there everything for that. They reminded me that there is something alive in me, something wild.