A while back a contest in Real Simple asked readers to describe the first time they felt like an adult. I had that moment this morning. It was not triggered by a birthday, a cancer diagnosis, a death, marriage, or any other dramatic life-changing, insurance-change-elligible event. Rather, I was walking the early-morning, drizzly, deserted UCLA campus, on my way to the gym.
After a lifetime of preparing for a career in academics, and a relatively prompt retreat from the front lines, college campuses have a particular allure. Perhaps that was the origin of my academic path.
During this self-reflective walk, I found myself envying college students.
This is worth qualifying- I have no interest in being younger again. It really wasn't much fun the first time. I'd like my options to be endless again. Sure, they tell you anything can happen; but really, that's not true. It's less true now. I was certainly never going to be in the NFL or sing professionally, but there were many paths available and I have always abhorred picking just one.
My grown-up moment came in realizing that those decisions are mostly - though not completely- made. I have a new career in which I am thriving. I have no intention to change fields, despite interest in everything I've ever read an article about. I have a husband, and, while he's not perfect, he is most definitely wonderful. Not trading him in either. I couldn't trade in my daughter even if I wanted to, and, other than in the interest of an occasional night off, why would I want to?
She is a force. Not to be reckoned with- she's not there yet. Just 30 solid pounds of force: will, energy, abandon, and emotion. Her future is wide open, and she is barreling towards it with the calculated determination of alligator snapping at an antelope, the naive ignorance of the sweet co-ed checking the basement in a horror flick, and the infectious giddyness of, well, a toddler. It's beautiful, terrifying, and a little heartbreaking to watch. That used to be me, and while I miss the endless potential, it was overwhelming as well as extraordinary.
My life is predictable now, to a degree, and I'm ok with that. Much more so than I ever thought feasible. In large part, it's consistent because I've tried out a few options and chosen those that suit me. This morning I was stopped- surrounded by classic red brick with drops accumulating on my fogged glasses- by the inspiration that I finally am ready to be a grown-up. I suppose that means I'm already there.
Certainly, I have plenty of adventures left. Some will surely involve my daughter and her inspiring-ly happy life. But many will be mine and my husbands, or mine alone. Now that I'm grown up, those adventures will simply have more to do with where I go and what I do, see, or eat, than with who I am or might be.
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