They never said it would be easy, but they never really said it would be this hard, either. Similar to many of my peers, I’ve spent countless hours and sleepless nights in a phase of self-exploration and determining the next steps for the upcoming future. But with us all having different paths in life, I spent those hours preparing extemporaneous speeches while my twin brother, Wyatt, was registering for his freshman orientation for the fall in the room next to me. We were both working towards our own goals in life, progressing in each day, and yet there was this weird, loomy feeling hanging above me. I felt like I still didn’t know who composed of “Morgan” and where my path was headed, when so much time was spent and generous people helped me get to where I wanted to be, yet this inevitable future was something frighteningly amazing. As the days kept progressing, we have to progress with it. I found through these past few months that “the name of the game” is to mature at every turn, whether we like it or not. Because frankly, at the end of the day, we are working towards having a version of a “yes” or “no” on a piece of paper, but it’s up to us to make it a stalemate or the best opportunity of our lives.
These past few months have more or less encouraged self-development, but the rush of chasing down a big dream still held a piece of me from diving head in. So much time was spent to get to that very moment, but what now? It felt as though I must leave my family and chase down those big city dreams, ready or not. The days continue to progress just as they always have and the weight to grow into who I aspired increased, as well as my desire to return back to my roots. The weekend home arrived and so did I to my two story red house. The air felt different- the dogs were quieter as I walked through the front door, and my youngest brother, Rocco, was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich by himself for the first time. It felt like I was the only one who had to move forward, but so did my family.
Things felt different but one that wasn’t, was Rocco. He acted as though things never skipped a beat but occasionally made his own snacks. We truly fell back into stride as we played in the pool and argued over the TV remote. But as we continued on the tradition of having an evening at the fair, Rocco taught me something much more valuable than he’ll ever recognize. We indulged in fair food and played in a friendly carnival game. As we tried to outscore each other, Rocco always kept a smile on his face and ignored my notions of perfecting the form for landing these frogs on a lily pad. We walked away with our prizes and he was more excited about sharing the experience together than our latest victory. Every day I had been focusing on how to get to the next stepping stone in this crazy game of Life, and never bothered to breathe and enjoy the moment in time. I was so focused on maturing and being better that it took a ten year old to tell me to smile. We always focus on the future and being a better version of ourselves, but when is the last time we took a step back and enjoyed those who supported us? Sometimes taking a step back from our own realities will show us the worlds of those who help us get to that next stepping stone.
Always progressing,Morgan A. Hinz