I was driving back from the grocery store and passed a fraternity house in the neighborhood. There were guys and girls outside grilling burgers and drinking beer.  It was an Indian summer night–high 70’s on October 24. The whole thing seemed so carefree.

I only saw them for a second but I got a pang of nostalgia in my heart. I miss those days when your life could be dictated by the weather.  Hey, yeah, it’s warm out, let’s have a cook out. And everyone you know is pretty much free for burgers and beer pong.

Prior to this scene I was proud of myself for making the commitment to go to the grocery store on a weeknight after I’d already been home from work, for deciding to be proactive and get the ingredients to make pumpkin dip for my book club.

Like woah, I’m old. Not only am I not in college anymore, but enough time has passed that I could’ve gotten another undergraduate degree.  Done the entire thing over again.

I miss those days of friends all the time, group lunches, shorts and flip flops, and boys walking around in backward hats.

Thinking back on this scene now, I’m filled with the same intense nostalgia that hit me that night. I’ve had bouts of nostalgia a few times over the years, but nothing like this.  I’m not sure where it’s coming from and why it’s staying with me.  I just know it’s here now.