I thought I’d feel different by now.

I remember sitting in a recliner in the living room of a quiet house after the boys I was babysitting had been sent to bed. I remember thinking what a nice scenario it was: a house, a wife, children, stability. I remember being that high-schooler sitting there, leaning back and trying to imagine, for a moment, what it would be like to be in that position someday. I remember thinking that it would be a great quiet confident feeling to sit back, survey my domain, and relax in the peace that came from such stability. I remember thinking how wonderful it would feel to be that different person.

That was 1993, nearly half a life ago. I’m married to a wonderful woman. I own my own home. (No recliner yet.) I have a daughter that is the sweetest little girl that has ever walked the earth. Another child on the way. I have a job that I like, and that likes me. All those things I had wished for, I now find I have. But I still feel like I’m the same person. I still have internal conflicts, fears, and doubts. I’m still imperfect. (Why did I think that would ever change?) I still worry. I still feel guilt, frustration, and anger. I still wonder about the future. There are still times when I am happy to just crank up my iPod and let the music block the world out for a while.

This is probably my biggest surprise about growing up: that while everything around me has changed, and I undoubtedly have changed, I don’t feel like I’ve changed. Maybe I lack perspective. Maybe if I compared snapshots instead of the continuum, I’d see the differences more starkly. Maybe I’m just forgotten what it felt like to be a teenager. But maybe not.

A person twice my age will read this, shake their head, and think I could’ve told him that, and it’s likely that 20 years from now I’ll say the same thing. But today I’m not willing to write it off quite that quickly. It means something that the desires of a dozen years ago are still wandering around in me today. There’s something to be learned from the knowledge that home, wife, and child haven’t fully satisfied them. I know some of the answers, but for today I think I’d rather just sit back and ponder the questions. Maybe I need to go find a recliner…