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Recently, some volunteer work led me to my former preschool/kindergarten building, which prompted some unprecedented nostalgia.

I saw some of my old teachers and caught up with them. It seemed as nothing had changed since I’d been going to school there, 10 long years ago. They looked the same as I remembered them from old pictures, and so did the building. I went into the bathroom and was amazed at how tiny everything was. Even as a more petite person, I had to bend over to wash my hands. There was even a little stepstool platform at the sink – I marveled at the realization that years ago, little five-year-old me probably used that stool. Little me probably had to look up at the sequenced picture cards taped to the wall to remember what to do when washing my hands, and glanced into that miniature mirror hung above the sinks.

I could almost see a reflection of my five-year-old self in that fingerprint-smudged mirror. Wistfully, I reminisced about the days when I probably adjusted my pigtails in that mirror…and now, all I notice is that the tiny little mirror is in dire need of some Windex.

I feel the same way every day in biology, when I look out the window to see that very preschool right next door. I see the tiny little kids playing happily on the swingsets, running amok in a game of “catch me if you can” and then lining up to go inside with their teachers. Sometimes, if I can manage to block out my biology teacher’s lesson on biochemistry or whatever the tortorous topic of the day happens to be, I can hear their screams of delight.

The whole thing just makes me jealous of those little kids. So carefree and happy. Part of me wishes I could stop them and tell them to make sure they enjoy it while it lasts. Make them appreciate it, because life will never be that way again. But they’re so blissfully unaware. The toughest decision they have to make is what kind of jelly they want on their peanut butter sandwich. How I wish I would’ve known what was coming when I was younger. How I wish I would’ve appreciated it more, savored every moment of it. Those were the days of my life when I had it the easiest, when I had nothing to worry about. And I didn’t even know it.

Now my life is full of stresses. I have things to worry about now that I understand the world a little bit better. I have to worry about life. And death. My family. My friends. My grades. My future.

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