It hits me, sometimes, right smack in the face, how quickly I am growing up. This week, it hit me while I was texting my friend.
You’d think it would hit me when my future roommate called to tell me that the credit check went through, and it’s official – we have an apartment. She’s dropping off 12 post-dated checks today. I’m moving out of my parents’ house for the first time. That speaks of growing up. But it didn’t.
You’d think it would hit me as I’m on my way to my full-time job, at which I make enough money to move out, buy a car, get a new cell phone, and maybe eventually a new computer. That speaks of growing up. But it didn’t.
You’d think it would hit me as I sign the insurance papers in order to switch the plates on my father’s car into my name, officially making it my car as of this coming Saturday. That speaks of growing up. But it didn’t.
It hit as one of my best friends texted me, asking if I wanted to go see The Hunger Games on Friday after our study, around 11:00, and I had to tell her no, because I have to be up by 7 the next morning in order to go to the licensing office and make the change, and be back in time to vacuum the house, before I have to head back out for my roommate’s twin sister’s bridal shower.
I was responsible. I didn’t want to be – I wanted to tell her yes yes yes! But I have other priorities, other obligations, that require my time and attention and really do not require my sleepiness or lethargy.
And so, my friend who I never see because we’re both growing up and I have a job and she has a job and she has classes and I’ve been looking for an apartment, offered to come see it again, with me this time, on the Saturday after the shower.
And I realized that we’re growing up, and gone are the days that we see each other effortlessly, because we’re both in school at the same time, or both have nothing better to to do that to sit at church for hours doing nothing. We both have responsibilities now, and we are both adults now. So we have to find ways, we have to go out of our way, if we want to spend time together.
Part of me thinks that that is terribly sad, and part of me acknowledges that it’s a fact of life, and that it was utterly inevitable. And a third part of me rejoices in the fact that I will be out from under my parents thumb, and to be able to prove to them that I am able to make my own decisions and manage my own life. To prove to them that yes, I will make mistakes, but I will pick myself up and brush myself off and continue on, resolute. To show them that the choices I have made so far in my life are not so wrong as they seem to think.
And also, I am so psyched to move out, I feel like I might just explode. And I have to wait until June! How will I survive?!