Growing Up Is Hard To Do

It was a beautiful day. The kind of beautiful that makes you ridiculously happy to be alive, and to be where you are. I was originally sad about having Good Friday off, because I was too poor to not work, but once I went outside this morning I changed my mind. I decided to take advantage of the wonderful weather by driving down to Murfreesboro and tracking down some old friends. We spent the afternoon in the park. It was lovely.

As I was leaving their apartment this evening, I rolled down my windows and started to cry. Being with them was wonderful. Being in a place that held such a huge chapter of my life was wonderful. I miss it, in a way that makes me sad it had to be over before I knew what had happened. It made me sad that I didn't see the end coming, and didn't have a chance to find any closure, or be ok with it ending.

In Brazil, I learned the importance of growing up. I learned that eventually you have to just accept the fact that you are getting older, and you have to learn how to take care of yourself. You can't depend on someone else to take care of you forever. This frustrated me, because I never asked to grow up. I never asked to give up a life of fun for a life of learning to be an adult. It just happened, and I've refused to accept it.

The truth is, I've tried for a long time to deny being a grown-up. I wasn't ready, and I'm pretty sure I'm still not ready. Tough luck, because here it is anyways. I get up every morning, and I go to work. Nine or ten hours later, I come home and go to bed. I pay the rent at the beginning of the month, and I call my dad once a week to assure him that I'm still here. I recently managed to leave the country and come back, without anyone directing my steps, and I even manage to remember to feed myself (usually). Here it is kids: adulthood. At 22 years of age, I think I'm finally figuring it out. And I'm not happy about it. I miss my life, I miss the fun, and I miss having friends.

It was hard to be with my college friends today, because I often want that life back. It was as good as it gets, and without it I suddenly don't know where I belong. Without it, I've had to discover my own identity. It hasn't been easy. If I could go back for a little longer, I would.

This morning I went to a birthday lunch for one of my boys (he's still mine, right?); he'll be four on Sunday. Four. I can't believe it. As I watched him blow out the candles (on the pizza), I longed to whisper to his heart. I wanted to tell him to not grow up too fast. To not want to grow older. I wanted him to know how hard it is to grow up, so he will savor being young. I want to tell him this because I wish someone would have told me. I wish I would have known.

But then again, it wouldn't have mattered. Time passes, kids grow up, we all get older. Life goes on. Changes come. It happens, and we can't slow it down. Such is life...make a wish.