“I can’t wait to be a grown-up”…
it was the quest of my childhood and a natural endeavor for children seeking maturity. Seven-year-old-me dreamed often of reaching that perfect goal and finding out exactly what kind of human being I would be for the rest of my life.
Throughout our younger years we dream, we learn, we change. It is all part of the process of growing into that elusive adult, our final destination on the bumpy ride of adolescence.
Now I’m eighteen. I may be a legal adult, but I know I’m still not a grown-up. I’m far from my final destination. I’ve got lots more to learn. Lots more growing to do. And you know what? I have a feeling that when I’m 21, even more legally an adult with even more responsibilities, or when I’m 35 and finally grown up enough to run for president of the United States, I still won’t be a grown-up.
I hope I didn’t mess up. I hope I didn’t miss something. I hope seven-year-old-me wouldn’t be disappointed in my inability to reach a destination.
I know it CAN happen. I’ve seen people become grown-ups before. It means they are individuals who are finished exploring. They know who they are. They know how things are. You can try to argue with them, but they are always right noquestionsasked. Nothing can change their mind. They will move through the rest of their life as if on a straight line, never changing, never unexpectedly diving into a different adventure.
To refer to growth in the past tense is just sad. I hope I am always curious, always exploring, always changing. I may age to be 95 or a 102, but I’ll never be a grown-up because I’ll never stop growing.