I am turning 26 in 2 days.
I don’t have any hangups with age (yet) and I am looking forward to entering another year.
What utterly baffles me is all the things that have happened that I still consider somewhat recent but, apparently, were a really long time ago.
Like a whole decade ago.
The ink had barely dried in my new minted driver status when Mama G. let me drive to school. By myself. Because I was 16. And I could.
I can still remember sitting in the driveway thinking “I can drive this thing anywhere. I can take whatever route I want. I don’t even have to go to school. This is freedom.”
I also remember taking the most direct route to my high school so I wasn’t late for Mr. Tate’s history class.
5 years ago, I was at my apartment on Elizabeth Street in East Lansing with my 2 college roommates, watching WorldClock.com and waiting for the exact second it turned midnight, thus starting my days as an official adult.
Fact: There is nothing that ends up being all that adult about being 21.
But for my roommates and me in our college junior lives, turning 21 was just it and we were most certainly going to be there for each other as we made that chronological step that allowed us (legal) access into all the fine adult beverage establishments East Lansing, Michigan could provide.
Even when I think about the last 2 years, I can’t believe how some things feel several lifetimes ago. Changing career paths, making a fairly gutsy move to Chicago (just ask my Dad- I think he’s still sighing in relief everything worked out better than any of us could imagine), changing political views, deciding that I actually do hate country music, despite several relationships in which I claimed to “love” Rascal Flatts. See? So much change.
A quarter of a century, nearly under my belt.