Life after high school is strange, anyone will tell you that. Not in the places you go, necessarily, but the journey your mind takes in order to be proficient at what you do. I have the strangest desire to be a kid again, not in the lack of responsibilities (I don't mind those, other than that they take me from my Taco Bell), but the youthfulness and disregard towards judgment. I want to play and lay out in the sun—fall asleep because the heat is just right. Find a stick in the woods that resembles a sword to fight off orcs and badass wizards. Wake up in the morning to watch cartoons or sneak the love affairs of "Dawson’s Creek" before catching the bus. To grow in the neglected ability of imagination. I feel we all have this desire, this urge for nostalgia that is weirdly palpable. It’s important to express these feeling because when you do, you realize the commonality with the people you share your day with.

On my walk home last week, my friend Amanda and I were discussing our thoughts of the day; what happened, what felt good, what hurt a little and what we hoped would improve for the next class. These walks allow me to decompress and collaborate with a partner. Bouncing ideas off of one another, while staying active. Luckily, I also live in New York City where the possibilities of excitement expand with every block. I’m never sure of what I may encounter as I set foot out my door, and truly, that’s all the effort it takes. This specific walk, however, gave me a gift that I am especially grateful for, returning me to the early 2000’s, lounging on my couch, eating Funyuns, watching "Sabrina, The Teenage Witch" and the Disney Channel Original Movie, "Mom’s Got A Date With A Vampire." Yes, I met Sabrina’s aunt, who also survived a date with an oddly domesticated version of Dracula.

The exchange began with a glimpse of what only could have been seen as my entire inspiration for loving horror films. Not knowing her name, I shouted instinctively, “Mom's got a date with a vampire?” She pivoted and replied with joy and brassiness, “Yes! Finally someone remembers!” I found just enough focused energy to ask for a hug, and she gladly gave it to me. While in her embrace, she sprinkled, “You have beautiful eyes!”—the exact quote that will, one day be engraved in the center of my tombstone. We laughed, we cried, and we took selfies.

After, I quickly ventured to social media in order to fully allow the feeling of jealousy to swell over every early 2000’s raised child. Twitter exploded and Snapchat took defense; receiving messages of pure envy, but also seeing a sincere love for the decade of our generation. For a brief moment, we were allowed to reconvene for a time of play and imagination. Thank goodness for Caroline Rhea.