So I'm turning 21 in almost two weeks. As excited as I am to legally drink...
I don't want to grow up.
I remember as a kid there were always those special birthdays that I fantasized about for my whole life. When I was really little I always thought about how cool it would be to finally become a teenager. I would wear hip clothes, be allowed to wear makeup, be in middle school and have my own locker, start dating boys. I would be so much older.
Then I turned 13 and didn't feel any different. But it was ok, there was always the "sweet sixteen" to look forward to. I would get to drive a car (which meant everything to somebody in high school). I would no longer have to beg my older friends for a ride home instead of taking the dreaded yellow bus. I could have my own set of keys, and pull them out of my bag even when I was still a mile away from my car just so that I would look cool. I would finally get to travel the roads I always knew on my own for once. I would be so much older.
And then the anticipated day happened and I didn't feel any different. But, no fear, there was always my 18th birthday. I'd be able to vote and make a contribution to my country's decisions. I'd be able to get into some bars. I could buy a lottery ticket, cigarettes, and, god forbid, adult videos. I'd be able to do about anything legally but drink and pay taxes. I would go to college. I would be so much older.
But, yet again, I turned 18 and wondered how the time had flown by so fast. But I still wasn't "officially" an adult. I still had another 3 years.
And now, almost three years later, my 21st birthday is so soon that I can almost feel the hangover that will occur the day after. Sure, it will be liberating. I will officially be an adult who makes my own choices and is fully accountable for my own actions. I can go to bars, gamble in Vegas, and stay in resorts (but not get a rental car). But what happened to the day when my 21st birthday was light years away and I was still a kid: chasing the ice cream man down the street, playing tag at recess, going to the roller-skating rink every Saturday with my best friend, wondering what Santa Claus would bring me for Christmas? When the biggest issue was to stop playing hide and seek with my friends because my mom said it was time for me to come inside and take a bath? Those were the simple days. I didn't have a care in the world.
Everything in life gets so much more complicated the older you get. Soon I'm going to have to graduate college and go out in the scary "real world." I'll have to make a name for myself. I'll have to pay my own bills, my own taxes, my own daily expenses that I don't really think about right now. And if I do one of these little things wrong: I could get audited, my landlord could kick me out on the streets, my car could break down after forgetting to check the oil for a year.
Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and tell my little kid self to not hurry on life: it is short, precious, and irreplaceable. Cherish the moment you have as a 7-year-old, 12-year-old, 15-year-old, 19-year-old. Because each day that you live you will never get back. Live in the moment. Never hurry on getting older, cause once you're actually old and your hair is falling out... well, it sucks.
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