Playlist: The Melancholy Realization That You're Getting Older

They say you can never go home again. But you can listen to this playlist to not feel so alone.

Written by Tatum McDonald

Illustrated by Roberto Soto

I spent years trying to outpace the clock, begging to be just a little older, a little kid wobbling around in my parents' shoes, playing pretend. Now all I want is yesterday.

I don’t go home much anymore. Every time I do, an overwhelming sense of wrongness settles into my gut. This place once belonged to me. It doesn’t anymore. The speed limit has changed, and I don’t recognize the cars on the street that used to be my playground. I haven’t talked to the kids next door in a million years. Would I recognize them if I saw them again? Would they recognize me?

Standing next to my parents, I feel a little taller. Or maybe they’re getting smaller. That is how it works, isn’t it? My younger sister tells me if she had known that was our last summer together, she would have done it differently. It’s too late for her now, but I’ll find some way to warn my little brother. I know I will.

I’m at a party, and someone raises a toast to growing up and getting old. Everyone around me cheers as if that’s a good thing. For a moment, I manage to convince myself that they’re right. After all, I’m old enough to drink the champagne in my glass, and, God, how long have I been waiting for that? But then I remember the people I thought would be here with me, the ones I knew when I was young, and all I want to do is call my mom.

The road ahead is endless, and I would give anything for a pause. A stop sign, a red light, anything. I’m hurtling toward the future at 490,000 miles an hour and I need the train to stop. It won't. But hey, at least I’m not riding alone.