Right now you are wishing for bright eyes that will notice yours from across the room and a lap to crawl into after a very long day. You are aching for an adventure, to see the world in all its glory, to discover the well-kept secrets its Creator left behind, to taste the wonder at new tables. You are envisioning your 30th birthday and the permanent people who have entered your life and never left; at least, you hope you’ll have indelible companions by then.

But today you are 20. You are hard-headed and independent and push away anyone that tries to call you more than a friend. You are tangled up in homework and class schedules. You are a messy dorm room and an anxious conversation. You are constantly praying that your friends stay this time — that you’ve chosen those with deep roots and great love.

Seems to me the world turns a lot like a merry-go-round. You glide up and down on a porcelain horse at seven years old and think it’s utterly boring. At 17, you get back on one and close your eyes to try to feel seven again. The figure moves up and down the golden pole and the slow rush of wind seems oddly comforting.

At 20 you wish there was a merry-go-round somewhere nearby. You’d pay the fee just to go around in circles a few times and remember what it was like to be seven and 17; $3 isn't much for a little perspective.