It is February, and that means that I’m only a couple handfuls of days away from being a quarter of a century old.
I remember being a little kid and thinking it would take F-O-R-E-V-E-R to become an “adult.” Looking around at my life of games and toys and school and dealings with peers who I just didn’t understand, and wondering how long would it take for me to be an adult like all the people I could relate to… Filling out those class assignments asking “where will you be in five years? Ten years? Twenty years?” and wondering how long until I became me, wondering when I could shed my childhood and adolescence like a dry old snakeskin, and leave it in the grass.
It happened quicker than I thought, and looking back, I realize I “grew up” a long time ago.
I don’t know that I was ever a child.
And I’m happy with that.