A little scared - so I'll ramble.

It's all coming up really fast. It's a lot like walking down the last three feet of the diving board, and you know that when you get to the end, there's nothing left to do but jump.

And honestly, it's more than a little terrifying.

Life changes, and boy, has it COMPLETELY changed in the last year. Let's see... May 1st, 2007, I believe I was madly preparing for my sophomore recital, studying for theory finals and trying to decide what grad school I was going to start pursuing and in what field. May 1st, 2008, and I'm reading mommy books and trying to plan out my next five years with a husband and joy baby girl in tow.

And beyond that, I haven't really taken the time to develop any good friendships since I've been back - barring my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Meg, but that's not really a day-to-day, meet you for coffee sort of thing anyway, not with seven kids for her and one for me. I'm going to be seeing my old girlfriends at the wedding, coming up very soon, but even that is a little scary, considering that we've all changed so much in the last year... I'm not sure I'm even going to know Charlee anymore, which saddens me quite a lot. Brittney - we've seen each other more, but not often by any means.

I guess this fear is really based out of nostalgia. I've been remembering the "good old days," back at Central, and missing them terribly. Change is quite a scary thing. A great thing about working with kids is you see a bunch of raw emotion, all based on life circumstances, and you realize that what they are feeling is really what most adults feel, but have lost touch with. For example, one little girl in class, whose name is Grace, is going to have a new baby sister in about a week. Normally, she is the sweetest, kindest girl; recently, however, she has been cantankerous and mean to the other students, and prone to cry at the drop of a hat. She will bawl at the smallest provocation, but if I pull her up on my lap and cuddle with her for a while, she'll fold right up and say what she needs: "I want my mama."

She wants her normalcy back. I can totally relate; I almost cried with her today, I was so struck by this childlike, emotional caricature of what I am currently experiencing. Sometimes, I just want to curl up and say, "I want my old life back."

I guess the best thing to do is trust, and believe that in ten years, I wouldn't have had it any other way.