The gap year.
That perfect year of being young and finding yourself, with no responsibility. One last chance just to be a kid full of dreams.
It had been the perfect year, easily the best year of my life. Most Americans went straight to college after graduating high school, but I’d managed to talk my parents into allowing me to take a year off to travel and explore. Of course I’d struck a deal with them that I’d come to regret, but at the time it had been the best decision I’d ever made.
And ever since, I’d just wanted to go back to that year. That perfect existence.
Nearing thirty years old I often thought about the life I’d made for myself. The job I had, the people I surrounded myself with, even the fiancé I was supposed to be in love with. None of it was what I’d wanted at nineteen years old. None of it fulfilled the dream.
So I often asked myself… could I have a do over? Could I take another gap year to see if I could truly find myself?
Or would I be trapped in this life forever?
