I never thought I’d live to see the age of thirty. I can remember lying in my bedroom at night, staring at my Holly Hobbie wallpaper, and counting up the years until I would be thirty. It seemed an impossibility. 2001? How could I survive that long? I was sick so often, in the hospital more often than any kid I knew. How could I ever live long enough to become an adult?
For some reason, I thought reaching 30 meant that you were an adult. At the age of eight, my Mom would have been twenty-eight and my Dad was thirty-two. If I had a question, they had an answer! Ipso facto – that was an adult; having answers. Now, having lived past thirty, I know they were just making it all up as they went along.
Now, here I am, approaching Fifty. A Bonus Round of sorts. I never expected this. I have also never truly felt like an adult. I kept waiting for that “AHA” to happen. I don’t wait for it anymore.
I think we are all making it up as we go along. Some better than others. Some nights I still lie awake, minus the Holly Hobbie wallpaper. I don’t count up the years, I remember them.
loosestgirlintown 