Today was Ethan’s first day of kindergarten. And my big boy was excited, happy, enthusiastic, and proud – all the things I could hope for my child on this day. His eyes shone with anticipation as he got dressed and ready for “Bear Camp”, a ½ day session designed to orient kindergarteners to their new school. After I dropped this little man off at his rather large school (bus route begins tomorrow), I headed to downtown Nashville for an appointment. 
It was near Centennial Park, and afterwards I found myself at the Parthenon, Nashville’s replica of the ancient Greek temple. I sat down on the steps, surrounded by massive columns, sun shining brightly and warming my skin. And I remembered.
I had just turned 19 when I visited the Parthenon in Athens with my college choir. I was young, in love with life and at least one boy, and thrilled to be doing what I loved best – singing – and exploring places I’d only ever dreamed of visiting. I recall sitting down on the crumbling steps, surrounded by massive, decaying columns, sun shining brightly and warming my skin. Life was filled with possibilities, my world filled with hope – not unlike my kindergartener this morning.
Reality has a way of creeping in and redirecting our paths. We find as we age that what we dreamed at age 5 or age 19 or even age 33 isn’t exactly where we end up. And that’s just fine. Would we really want to have nothing but easy roads and no challenges along the way? What is love without loss, prosperity without scarcity, or creativity without barrenness? I am learning to appreciate all the more the blessings I’ve been given – family, friends, work, play, music, writing – because there have been times of loss or emptiness over the years.
There’s an innate quality in most of us. It’s a need to look back with longing, become nostalgic about the “good old days”. And there are those of us (namely me) who expend much energy looking to the future, trying to manage outcomes. Today as my hand touched a structure that took me to the past and my mind wanted to race forward to the future, I decided to breathe deeply of this one moment. And then, when I picked up my bright-eyed, joyful Ethan from school, I realized he already gets it. Quite simply, it’s a gorgeous day, full of wonder. And like my kindergartener, I choose to enjoy this day.