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When you're a grown-up, you can do whatever you want. Your life is an endless stream of Happy Meals and Saturday Morning Cartoons. When you go to the arcade, every girl there is your girlfriend, and all of them are also free token machines. John McClane is your bodyguard, and the two of you spend most nights hanging out with Bill Murray while firing proton packs at the Predator. It's pretty cool.
Until you actually grow up.
One day, you wake up and you find out that life is a little more complicated. Some things come easier. You're stronger. Challenges that were tough when you were a kid now seem like nothing at all. But the world is even scarier. Evil is very real. Darkness threatens everything that you love. At times, you want to go back. For things to be simple again.
Luckily, you have a green hat and you can control time.
When I first played The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, I wanted to be adult Link. He was better at everything, and he rode a horse. But as I revisit Hyrule today in 3D — years later — I find myself savoring my moments as young Link.
As a child, Castle Town's market bustles with patrons and shops trading and selling useful secrets. As an adult, the only thing on sale at Castle Town is Horrifying Death-By-Zombie with a side of Dark Ominous Cloud. Ganon's rule is the loss of innocence and wonder.
As a grown-up, this fact hits home a lot harder today as I realize that the game is a reflection of one of humanity's deepest desires: to be young again. Link's adventure doesn't just tap into our longing for empowerment and heroism. We can save the day in countless other games. Ocarina gives its hero –and us — the power to turn back the clock. To recapture the things we lose along the way to adulthood.
The story of the Hero of Time is a lesson to each of us that in order to face our greatest foes, we must never lose the sense of wonder, hope, and limitless possibility that fills our world with awe as children.
I still remember emerging from the forest into Hyrule Field's endless expanse for the first time more than a decade ago. I explored its streams and hillsides and watched the sun set in the distance — not knowing what awaited me at night.
Today, those hills are a little smaller. The trees don't stretch quite as high into the sky, but the sense of exploration and adventure I had when I was younger is still alive.
Growing up isn't easy. We'll experience moments in life that can weigh heavier on the head and on the heart. I don't feel as invincible as I used to. But today, I traveled through time. It wasn't like the movies. I wasn't able to warn my younger self about the first Star Wars prequel or give him a copy of Gray's Sports Almanac.
Instead, young me taught adult me something. That I am never going to grow up. That the universe is as mysterious to me now as it's ever been, and that in knowing this, anything is possible.