The wing place near us is good and in the heart of a college town. This does not deter us at all from going down there on a Friday night because we're usually gone by 8 before any partiers really get boozing.
So last night I'm looking around the place as we ate our scrumptiously fried and dipped wings. A couple was cozy in a back corner, sipping their beers and whispering. Another table had a group of friends laughing as they ordered pitchers and wings.
That could have been us not too long ago. In fact, that was us not too long ago. In the same exact town, on the same exact street we perused as college kids.
|Marshall and I in college|
Except now the college kids are younger and younger (we're not getting older - of course not!). I watched a guy I thought should still be sharpening his PSAT pencil pull out his ID and order a Bud.
Don't get me wrong, I love where we live. I mean love it. I would be happy living in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains the rest of my life, and the closer to our college alma mater the better (travel time from home to said wing bar: less than 5 minutes. It's awesome.).
But I realize we are not the kids we were when we arrived. Gone are the fresh faces - Marshall's that couldn't grow a full beard and mine with no worry lines. Gone are the days of sitting around a table with our friends, sharing a pile of onion rings, pitchers of cold drinks, and abundant laughter.
Then I looked at my table. Me, my husband, my kids. Sitting around a table sharing a pile of tater tots, laughing and playing a rousing game of Eye Spy.