My birthday is coming up in a few weeks and I will be 24. I don't have a problem with that number, but it scares me being at an age where I should (at least theoretically) be settling down and growing up and doing adult-type activities like scrapbooking or golfing or trading crockpot recipies with other ladies over morning tea.
A few days ago an old woman walked into the newsroom and asked we could help her husband up. He had fallen down while trying to step from the street up to the sidewalk. He hit his head on a car and his glasses fell off in the fall. He was so old and so fragile and I couldn't help wonder what he had been like at my age and what I would be like at his. I don't ever want to be helpless, lying in the street because I can't get up.
When I was growing up I never thought I'd make it past 23. I was convinced I'd die in some tragic yet spectacular accident or during a kidnapping or at the hands of a murderer. All of these fates seemed possible to me, but becoming a grown up didn't seem like an option. If it did seem possible, it seemed mundane, not full of possibilities.
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3 comments:
I'm not that much older than you, and I'm one of those boring old crockpot ladies, (although I don't do that specifically my life is just full of poop stories and how the babies are doing), I confess there are many a days when I wish I might have been offered to join the traveling circus and had taken the job!! But life is truly what you make it, I just have to get on that.
I'm certainly not calling anyone boring. I just feel like I'd rather be a kid then settle down into adulthood, wifedom or motherhood. I would be too lazy, irresponsible and selfish to survive.
Sometimes I'm amazed that so many people my age are adults, while I am in many ways just a taller, plumper version of my 16-year-old self.
Sometimes I'm amazed that I'm an adult. Like at Thanksgiving I'm still wondering why I get to sit at the grown-ups table and not at the card table in the basement. Life passes quickly!
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