I was looking over the Snoqualmie Falls last week, admittedly entranced. There was a bit of late evening sun, a mist rising from the river where three ribbons of water fell to meet it. The center band had this iridescent green thing going on that I found mesmerizing. I stared for a while before I felt Mr. Right Now staring, too — but at me.

He had a smirk on his face. “What?” I asked, wondering if I had food on my face or something.

“I can tell exactly what you were like as a five year old,” he said.

It made me think about how rarely we give ourselves the chance to stare in wonder, be it at a waterfall or the vacant space on the calendar that indicates a free hour to do what I want. I’m sure I’ve looked with wonder at many things since I was five. Things stun me regularly, sometimes in a good way. But I’m also sure I don’t do it as often as I did then, and that’s sad.

Still, while five was a good year — there was still so much that was new and exciting to me —  the wonder I feel now is probably better, more studied, based on knowing how rare the moments are that deserve my shock and awe. So maybe Mr. Right Now is right, and watching me watch the falls provided a glimpse into my long-past youth. But he’s also wrong because the wonder of youth is fleeting. Now it stops me in my tracks and holds me there for a while. And that doesn’t make me sad at all.