They say the key to being a renowned writer is to write what you know about. Well, I never imagined that for me it’d be venturing into this newfound world of maturity.
By definition I entered into adulthood one year ago but this whole ‘maturity’ thing arose from outta space, I tell ya. I’d always envisioned maturity as a sorority of 30-something year-old bed makers and coffee drinkers with successful careers. I figured I’d join the cult someday but not before travelling the world in a combi-van, kissing sexy French men and basking in the freedom of my uncommitted life.
I’m in the prime of my youth with a sustainable income to purchase a plane ticket at any given moment, and what am I doing? Sitting at my polished desk, next to my newly made bed and freshly lit candles, feeling content after drinking a health shake (that I made) and preparing to arrive at work fifteen minutes early. What is happening to me? I thought this sort of thing occurred after poppin’ a few from your uterus and suffering many sleepless nights.
Now let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll forget about the $25 I spent on Tupperware a few weeks back and agree that my love of shoe shopping will not be traded in for microfiber kitchen towels and silicone spatulas. I think I know who to blame for this phase I’m going through. My ball of cuteness, one- year-old niece. When I was young, I often observed elders around me take a good two mississippis to lower themselves to their seat before sighing of relief. Guess what? I’m already at one mississippi.
As the baby of the family, I relished knowing that I’d be the last to spot a grey hair, develop a wrinkle or pay tax. Well, not anymore. My niece has got two decades on me. During this stage of hardship, I take comfort in knowing that for as long I’m writing about ‘newfound maturity,’ I clearly have a lot of growing up to do. Can I get a hooray for youth?♦