We visited Tyson’s great-grandma last week; she lives about an hour and a half away from us now. We were sitting in her living room talking about how gallon of gas used to cost a quarter and complaining about how hard it is to find a good job, and then she said,
“Someday you’re going to look back on these days and wish that you’d enjoyed them more. So enjoy them.”
I’ve been thinking about that ever since.
I remember that when I was in high school, I thought that I would be happy when I went off to college and got to study what I liked and meet new people. Then came college, and I thought that I would be happy as soon as I graduated and could stop worrying about studying for finals. So much of my life was wasted on wishing for better days.
These days, I believe that happiness is a gift that we’re given when we’re grateful for what we already have. It doesn’t mean that we stop dreaming of something better or that we give up on trying to achieve our goals; it just means that we allow what we have to be enough.
I don’t want to postpone being happy until my life is perfect. I will probably never have all the clothes from my Pinterest fashion board, but a striped shirt and skinny jeans is really all I need. My apartment will probably never look like it could be photographed for a Martha Stewart magazine, but as long as there’s Diet Coke in the fridge and brownie mix in the pantry, then this little apartment, with its multi-colored carpet and brick walls, is home. My life isn’t what I thought it would be when I pictured my twenties, but there’s laughter in every day and prayer in every night, and I never want to have to look back and think, “I wish that I’d enjoyed that more.”