The Passage of Time

astontsui
astontsui
Aug 22, 2017 · 4 min read

In mid-June of 2005, I was probably at the pinnacle of my life up to that point. We had just graduated, I had just represented my class as the graduation speaker in front of around 3,000 people, and we were on a school bus on our way to Disneyland to celebrate our graduation. All around me were friends that I cared about, there was nothing to worry about, and nothing but sheer joy on the horizon. Earlier that year, I also found out that I was UCLA-bound.

We took a lot of pictures that night. Grad night at Disneyland is truly a spectacle. There are so many graduates that you can barely walk from the churro stand to the restroom without bumping into fifty different bodies. And standing at a mere 5’7, I couldn’t see 10 feet in front of me.

There was a huge sense of closure in that night. Four years had passed. There were no more AP classes, no more club meetings, no more SATs or applications to fill out. Even though I still have nightmares about forgetting some math test, in the space of time between receiving the sweet sweet letter of acceptance to the time when I had to worry about the next adventure of my life that was college, I had nothing to worry about — only celebrations and memories to make. It was like the middle of a perfectly crafted cheeseburger — no excess bun, just the perfect amount of meat and cheese, onions and a little bit of pickle.

I’m writing this twelve years removed from those final days of graduation. I’m writing partially because I can’t escape my dreams.

I don’t know what kind of person you are — the kind that worries about an ominous future, hopeful optimist, or someone that simply enjoys the richness of the moment…but I am the type that finds it just so hard to let go of yesterday.

In my dreams, I see so many of my friends of my youth. In the dreams, we’re playing basketball, dancing, telling jokes and laughing. Sometimes I’d laugh myself awake. But when I do become awake, I glance over at my Xiao Mi and see that it’s 4:33 AM, and that I’m far away from them, both in terms of distance and time.

Sometimes, in the middle of these deep dark nights, I might crawl over to my MacBook and go on Facebook. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it either. The brightness of the Retina screen hurts my eyes, but that is the price to pay to know. I just want to know how everybody is doing.

I scan through updates, look at photos. So and so is getting married. My dear friends have children. It felt like just yesterday that we were children. I wonder if they remember when we were children?

Maybe it’s not so much because I want to know how they are that drove me to check Facebook, but rather, a curiosity about whether they still know me. The lies we tell ourselves to justify some non-sensical, unproductive action abound.

I consider sending them a message, but what would it even say? I would say hi, how are you. They would say I’m fine, doing great. Then we would talk briefly about how work is and how life must move on. If we’re lucky we might reminisce together. But the memories are long, long in the past. Either way, we have our own lives to live, our own baggage to carry, our own groups of people to share our experiences with. What was on the same path is now divergent. What was together is now apart.

Except in my dreams. In my dreams I can still access some of those memories fondly and reminisce about the past, where life was simple and things didn’t fall apart. We were all together still and we just had to study hard, get good grades, and play.

I look outside the window at about 5 AM, wondering if everyone lives the same working life as I do. Same thing, different day. It’s not always so depressing. I am lucky to have discovered something I could do for the rest of my life and enjoy the process of doing so. And in my students, there is always hope for the future, despite my own despondence regarding my own future.

But something’s wrong. I put the MacBook away, the Xiao Mi back on top of the luggage case, and lay back down on my really hard bed. There is still 3 hours left to dream, I tell myself. And so I close my eyes and dream away.

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