With respect to the author, Ms. Olson, I offer up a little inspiring bit of nostalgia. Hope she doesn't mind, wherever she may be.
I found this going through some zip disks. It still gets me right *here*.


Let’s say there’s this bunch of kids that you know.
Maybe you even met them once upon a time in what you now
know will one day soon be a faraway land.
And perhaps you knew the moment you stepped into the world
they share that these kids were like nothing you’d ever
seen before.
Probably even like nothing you’d ever see again.
They are the artists of a generation that has been said to have no
direction, no defining characteristics, no real purpose.
But you realize upon introduction that whoever said that hasn’t
been to this world, and certainly hasn’t met the ragged
bunch of kids that live here.
They offer themselves honestly and without pretense in a calm
come-as-you-are fashion.
They are harsh critics that know what they like and dislike
about you within seconds.
But they are forgiving, and they won’t hold a grudge over a simple
flaw of the personality—they simply find you all the
more interesting.
These kids don’t really know themselves yet, haven’t had a
chance to explore, and most of them have seemingly no
idea of their full potential.
When they do finally realize it, they’ll probably scare the hell
out of the rest of the world.
These kids are not perfect, but you realize, as the old saying
goes, nobody is.
They have courage beyond their years—courage to find
themselves, to live according to their own happiness, and
to make their own ways.
Perhaps you wish that you had the guts to act with their
abandon.
They want to share every thought that occurs, every word
produced by their pens, and each melody that plays at
the tips of their fingers and parting of their lips.
To think twice about confessing sin, divulging desires, or
professing true love is unheard of, because these kids
live to tell a story.
To go unheard is to starve.
Maybe these kids are so talented and so bright that you have
been afraid to take part.
Maybe you’ve always been envious that you couldn’t quite
follow suit.
Maybe one day, you get brave.
You’ve always admired their world from a distance, and
wondered what it would be like to participate.
But you’ve come to realize that you’re never really going to
belong here.
But this doesn’t make you sad—not at all.
You’ve had your chance, had a taste of this incredibly unique
world, and that taste has been far from bitter.
It has simply shown you that you belong somewhere else.
So maybe you leave this world and this amazing group of kids.
You’re probably torn, because you know that you’ll never find
another place like this with people like that.
But you know that it’s time, that the decision has been made,
and that you have to go.
And maybe, just maybe, you will forever hold in your heart a
little piece of that world.
Because you have to know, to feel that it would be impossible
to forget a bunch of kids who have shown you so much,
who have taught you to perform, reminded you how to
play, and who have blessed you with the courage to
finally give back a little part of yourself.
And maybe most of all, you hope that these kids won’t forget
you, either.