Tag Archives: Age

Do I Really Want to Grow Up?

Do I want to grow up?

I realized the other day that I’m getting old. I know 25 isn’t really that old, but what I mean is I’ve had a shift in the way I think, what I talk about with my friends, and how I spend my free time. A couple weeks ago, I was genuinely excited about having an entire Saturday off so that I could paint my kitchen. I think that’s when it hit me that I’m more of an adult now than I am a kid. I also get excited over certain birthday presents (like say a vacuum), enjoy taking a good nap once in awhile (something I said as a kid that I would never enjoy) and intentionally add spinach and other grown up foods to my dishes. Weird, I know who would have thought.

Change is a funny thing when it happens so slowly that you don’t even realize it is happening. I’ve been blessed/cursed with the fact that I look much younger than I am. People tell me all the time that I look 16 which most would think is a good thing, but it gets annoying when people treat you like you’re sixteen long after high school is starting to become a fading memory.

About a year ago, I was out shopping with a friend of mine, who also looks much younger than she is, and the young guy behind the counter started bending over backwards to help me. “He was so flirting with you,” my friend told me after we left. “I know, I told her. “Maybe after he finishes high school and then college we can talk.”

I felt old over Labor Day weekend when we stopped to pick up my sister from the college she is attending. It was about eleven at night and there were kids everywhere laughing, screaming, jumping off walls, and just being goofy. I couldn’t wait to pick up my sister and head away from the mayhem. Then I got to thinking it wasn’t too long ago that I would have felt right at home on that very same campus. What happened?

Honestly, I wouldn’t want to go back. I’m done with all-nighters, loud dorms, and freshman drama. I loved college while I was there, but each stage of life is fun in its own way. Not all parts of growing up are fun. I was reminded of that fact on Wednesday when a short visit to the clinic cost me 93 dollars and 60 cents, yuck. While it’s not fun paying rent every month and doing your own laundry, I love cooking my own meals, having the freedom to pick unusual paint colors for my walls, and not having to be home by 10 p.m. I guess, growing up has its perks.

It’s easy to want to live in the past thinking “yesteryears” were so much better than what is here today, but part of that is because when looking back, it is easy to forget the challenges and only remember the good memories. Today is here. It’s not always perfect, but it’s not all bad either. I love growing up, growing older, getting to see new things, and having new responsibilities. Each new day brings an adventure, and I don’t want to miss the good times that I can have now by wishing that things would go back to how they were.

What made you realize you were growing up?

What do you like most about your current stage in life?

Is growing up overrated?

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Filed under Contemplations, Home Improvement, Humor

Walk With Me

He never called me by name. I wasn’t too surprised. He didn’t use my name when I saw him last at my cousin’s wedding. Still it was hard not hearing him say it.  Grandpa is a solid six foot four, at least he was when he was younger. He prides himself in taking long walks and eats a banana with peanut butter for supper to keep his good cholesterol up and his bad cholesterol down. I’m sure his heart is healthy, but his mind is beginning to slip.

When I was younger, I used to go with grandpa on his daily walk. It was one of the few things I’d actually get up early for. We would bike for a stretch then I would do my best to keep up with his long stride. He’d cut his walk short when I tagged along so that my little feet wouldn’t get too tired.

On this visit to Florida I was feeling a bit restless. It was a beautiful day outside and my Canon Rebel was begging for some attention. I asked my sister if she wanted to go for a walk and Grandpa decided to join us. They walked ahead while I snapped pictures of Spanish moss and anything else that caught my eye.

Grandpa took the lead showing us the scenic route which cut through several private yards. I tried to steer him back to the road as best I could. Along the way he picked up several empty beer cans, and a monster can telling the story of how when he first took crushed cans to the scarp yard they’d paid him sixty dollars. I smiled. So far this trip I’d heard that story three times.

It’s not easy seeing a man who earned a master’s degree in mathematics struggle to come up with the word “wasp” describing what he wants to say until someone gives him the word. “That thing that flies and builds mud houses.”

I knew grandpa wouldn’t admit when he was tired, so I suggested we turn back after going 15 minutes out. As we entered the cul-de-sac an aluminum can in the neighbor’s trash caught his eye. He circled back to grab it. I watched him teeter as the sharp turn upset his balance. Grabbing the garbage can, I tried to steady it and prevent him from doing a complete head dive into the trash can. My sister grabbed his arm, and we both stood there straining under his weight wondering how we were going to call for help.

“I can get up,” he said after we had stood there tense for what seemed like ten minutes but was more likely 30 seconds. Methodically he paused to regained his balance, reached for the aluminum can, then pushed up on the plastic garbage can to get back on his feet. I reached into the trash to pull his watch out which had fallen from his front shirt pocket during the tumble. There was a time when Grandpa cut his walks short for my little legs now I just wanted to get him back home so he could rest in his favorite chair.

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Filed under Contemplations