Moment of Truth

So it's almost midnight on the night before I leave.

Right now I'm sitting on my bed, surrounded by the bags and clothes that I have come to associate with change. I'm waiting for a last small load of laundry to come out of the washer, and so I'm not wearing a shirt or socks, and I keep eyeing myself askance in the mirror across the room. The trouble is, when I see my reflection, I realize that I'm still not used to seeing someone with a few more muscles and a lot less hair than the guy who always hung around the glass in college. I know that I look different than I have before, but I can't help but feel that right now I'm living a moment that I will look back on many times in both the near and distant future as the last clear incarnation of a certain part of my life. Already I can sense the changes beginning, and I'm inexplicably sure that the image I see on the wall across the room will remain in my mind, but that, as I think is common for many people, I will appear in hindsight somewhat shorter, paler, and more sharply-elbowed due to the comparative inexperience and naiveté which will dominate the picture.

In looking back at myself before other major experiences in my life, I find that I can't help but think of myself with some measure of condescending endearment. Surely, I think, I couldn't have been that different before I went to France, but nonetheless I see myself on the morning of my departure bright-eyed and practically barking, scrambling to collect all the wrong things for my travels in the manner of someone waiting to inspire a series of ill-advised teen action movies.

I suppose, by implication, these several chubby-cheeked self-portraits exist in contrast to some gaunt and battle-scarred visage of gritty wisdom that should be narrating, but if nothing else, tonight shows me that such an avatar of experience has never arrived. It's ironic, now that I think of it, that I can continually think of how far I've come without ever losing the swaddling clothes between ventures, but perhaps it's better that I don't ever think myself already the master of my future challenges.

It is still amusing though, that I can sit here tonight, thinking about all that is to come with tomorrow, and know that among all of the strange and wondrous experiences I'll have will be a moment in which I look back at my current self fondly, as one smiles at a cat that sniffs the dormant garden hose before a startling twist of fate. Ah well, I guess no one ever looks cool before the water comes; the jokes are only funny after you dry off.

That's just something I've learned over the years.
Ha ha.