Sitting here in this Starbucks, listening to a cover of Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car and sipping on my latte, I wonder why I was in such a hurry to grow up? Maybe being in a hurry to grow up is the wrong term. Looking back at my life, I realize I didn’t really have much of a say about growing up. It feels like I woke up one day and had the responsibility of caring for another humane thrust upon my shoulders. Of course, I didn’t want to disappoint, so I just made sure my shoulders were stronger and went on my way. And in retrospect, when you’re taking care of a parent, other grown up decisions like spending the rest of you life with someone don’t seem as scary. Racing towards marriage and graduation almost seemed like a relief in a strange way. And then in one day everything completely changed.
Now that dad is gone, the terrible relationship I was in is thousands of miles in the past and college graduation is on the horizon, I realize that I don’t want to grow up... again. I know it seems silly. I feel completely ridiculous feeling this way. I never used to be terrified of growing up. Or graduating. Of having a job and an apartment. Of finding that special someone and staring a family. Three years changes a lot.
I enjoy my life of homework, projects, and poetry slams. I enjoy going out and dancing with friends. I enjoy knowing where I am in my life, where I will be for the next few years. I enjoy not having a set path. I enjoy knowing that no on depends on me. I enjoy not feeling the need to couple up and get married. I enjoy having an endless amount of possibilities in front of me.
Now that college is coming to a close, I feel like that’s all slipping away. Suddenly there is an expiration date to my freedom (even though it’s really not). I feel like I’ve been racing to grow up all my life, and only after I’ve started to really enjoy where I am, it’s all going to change. It’s time to get a job, get an apartment, and start the next chapter of life. At least I know it’s going to be great.
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