Exactly Where: Adulthood

I was always the kid who was in a hurry to grow up. I wanted to sit at the adult table on holidays and wanted to have the important conversations that occurred in the living room (rather than in the family room with the other kids). I wanted to watch serious TV and wanted to spend time by myself in the big city. I wanted have my own bank account that no one else could access and wanted to have the title to my first car solely in my own name.

With my 28th birthday last week, and my corresponding entry into the realm of my late 20s, I suppose there is no doubt that I am now a grown-up. I’m on my second car, with the title in my name (well, mine and the bank’s name), that I purchased without the assistance of anyone, and I’m well on my way to a mortgage down payment, which I will likely lay down without the assistance of anyone. I’m 800 miles away from those who think that I should have to check in daily, so I check in weekly if I feel so inclined. And I’m working in a job that dumps a surprising amount of responsibility on me on a daily basis. Many of my friends are married property-owners, thinking about whether children are in their near futures. Among those friends are other lawyers, doctors, professors-to-be, managers, etc.—all people who are not just the cogs in the wheel, but those who are charged in some way with deciding how the wheel will turn.

Being an adult sort of crept up on me, but like everyone else, this is what I’ve been preparing for throughout my youth. Unlike everyone else, though, I was the sort of odd child who thought that adulthood was exactly where I wanted to be.