We’re chasing the sun.

“We’re chasing the sun, and I don’t think it’s going to set.”

The text came from my friend on a 16 hour flight to the other side of the world. He meant it in a literal sense, but in that text I saw the truth of every single twenty something I know and the story written in the late nights and early mornings we don’t want to face.

We’re chasing the sun, and I don’t think it’s going to set.

The poster that hung above the white board in our third grade class is burned into our minds:

“If you can dream it, you can do it.”

Our lives, our books, and our movies taught us how to dream and we do- we dream of everything- the whole world is at our fingertips. We dip our toes into every pool, just to get a taste because we can and we can dream it so we do.

We want to do everything so we say no to nothing. Our lives are richly filled with new people and experiences. If we want, there’s never a shortage of new coffee shops, dogs to cuddle, babies to hold, friends to sit around with. Our busy schedules become a way of life- an inadvertent distraction and we never say no to late nights, nights in, nights out, office hours, weekend work, new hobbies, dinner dates, old friends, we’re stretched so thin we don’t realize the cost of what we’re doing until we find ourselves alone on a Saturday night,

sobbing over a pot of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

It’s magical, this strange new world we’ve created.

We shun commitment, but we want to fall in love so we fall

again and again

until something sticks or it doesn’t, and it’s not only people but jobs and hobbies and animals and things, and

we want enough time to be in love with everything.

                                                                                 -(Marina Keegan)

We’re chasing the sun, and I don’t think it’s going to set.

“What were your goals when you chose to be a Spanish major?” Someone recently asked.

I didn’t have any, really. I wanted adventure, and I thought learning Spanish was a good start.

There isn’t an end to this atlas of mine. There may not be an atlas at all, and I hope the sun will never set.

The problem with us twenty somethings is we think we’re the only ones who don’t have it all figured out.

But really I think deep down, we’re all kids who still want to ride our bikes down that big hill in the neighborhood. They warned us not to but still, we fly down, legs in the air, helmet straps flapping, and when we fall off, examine the blood on our skinned knees. It’ll be a scar with a story worth telling.

We’re all still kids, and we all find ourselves at sometime or another

stomping through new snow with childlike wonder or

sobbing over the stove on a Saturday night, drinking chocolate milk and eating straight from the pot of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

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