My Life As An Adult

Late into the night, snow fell as if it hadn’t yet realized the implications of hitting the ground. It seemed to float with no purpose or plan beyond the present moment. Stupid, ignorant snow. If only it knew of the change that will take place in a few short seconds, when it becomes suffocated by the bare ground. As I stare out at the wonderful indifference, I am reminded that my change is close, as well. The time is 11:57. Three minutes until midnight. Until I begin my life as an “adult”. Terror and anticipation battle within me and I contemplate how different life will be. For years, I have awaited the moment when I may begin to be viewed as fully human. When my opinions will cease to be seen as juvenile, and I can finally matter in the world. For years, I have dreamed of this moment, but now, as it stares back at me, I begin to wonder if the change is really worth it. Perhaps I am beginning to prefer the devil that I know over the devil that I don’t. Unfortunately, though, nature stops for no one, and protesting in these final minutes will only make the transition more painful.

Trying not to waste the little time I have left, I step onto the cold ground in an attempt to gain some of the snow’s indifference. Changing time may be impossible, but I can make what little I have left count. I raise my head and my eyelids close as I begin to feel the small, delicate snowflakes land on my skin. Finally, after what feels like both an eternity and a millisecond, I begin to hear Bach softly playing from my phone, indicating that the time has finally arrived. I am an adult. The thing I have aspired to be since I could comprehend the word. My one purpose in life thus far. And if I’m being honest, I don’t feel all that different.

Okay, ...

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... though, how much can change by the clock striking midnight on one’s eighteenth birthday?

So, perhaps stating that there is zero difference between children and adults is a bit naïve. However, trying to pin down a single, life-changing event is naïve as well. In the past, I have been told that becoming an adult means thinking of a world outside of myself, becoming less fickle, or learning how to do my own laundry. But in all these definitions, I am able to find a flaw. I know adults who don’t do their own laundry or are so fickle, they never gain trust. I certainly know adults who still thing the world revolves around them, so clearly the “adult becoming” situation isn’t clear. In fact, I wonder if it is even there in the first place. Are we not all just fully grown toddlers still learning how to successfully exist in the world? After all, a rose by any other name…