I am 24-years-old, strong-willed, independent, imaginative and
responsible, and I’m going to my first baseball game! Yay! You would think it
was Christmas morning the way I woke up way too early, fidgety and ready to go.
What am I going to wear? With my newfound,
childlike excitement I scurried downstairs to ask my parents when we are
leaving, only to find that they weren’t even stirring yet. I realized then that
it was in fact only 7:30 in the morning, and the game doesn’t even start until
6 this evening. A little disappointed, I tiptoed back upstairs resigned myself
to sitting here at the computer screen, thinking about what it means to be a kid
again.
Since I moved home, I have had to deal with the fact that I am once
again under my parents’ roof and that I am, in their eyes anyway, their little
girl still. At first this was frustrating. I had been taking perfectly good
care of myself for 4 years since moving to Colorado. I had been buying my own
food, cleaning my own kitchen, dressing myself and getting myself safely from
point a to point b without anyone giving me any advice on how to go about it,
or asking what I’m doing every 5 minutes. Suddenly having to coordinate my life
with two adults who, to some degree, do still maintain the status of ‘the boss
of me’ was a bit shocking to my sense of independence.
Slowly but surely though, I began to embrace my long lost role of daughter.
I joined my parents for coffee on the
porch in the morning and listened to the advice and ideas they had to offer for
my future plans. I accepted the fact that my mother will always take advantage
of my lower status, and I will inevitably end up getting the mail, cleaning the
kitchen, making the beds and bringing her whatever random thing she left in the
other room so she doesn’t have to get up off the couch. [If I ever have children
they will be my personal slaves] My dad will never run out of “stump talks,”
and if he does he will never tire of repeating the old ones again and again to
ensure that I am left with every ounce of fatherly wisdom he can possibly impart.
Everything is dangerous, hairy-legged boys are all good-for-nothing bums, and situational
awareness and personal responsibility can be applied to every facet of your
life.
It’s really not that bad though. My pride does wince a little at the
fact that they are now paying for pretty much everything. I know, terrible
right? But seriously, I have to eventually face the fact that I did fail to fly
on my own. I tried to make a life on a service industry salary in a tourist
town with a high cost of living. I did fine too. But fine isn’t what I want or
what I need. I have a heart for travel and for adventure and new experiences.
Living from paycheck to paycheck doesn’t leave much room for changing the
world.
Fortunately, I have parents who love me, and who will gladly take me in
and help me get back on my feet. Not everyone is so lucky. I get to come home
to the house I grew up in. I get to experience feelings and memories I had
forgotten existed. A lot of kids are kicked out of the nest and have to figure
it out the best they can, and that’s not necessarily bad. The realization
though, makes me cherish my time here a little more.
In less than a month I’ll be flying off to try again. With the help of
my parents I have made a plan and hopefully this time I’ll be a little more
successful. Until then though, I’m going to go to a baseball game. I’m going to
ride in the backseat, and ask if we are there yet (I’ll definitely have to pee
before we get there), and I’m going to cheer as loud as I can. I’m
24-years-old, and maybe I should be a grown-up, but I’m going to embrace this
chance to be a kid again and learn everything I can from it.
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