I turned thirty a couple of weeks ago. It was rather underwhelming, but at the same time it’s making me worry a little about wrinkles and gray hair. Just a little. More and more kids in their late teens and early twenties are calling Ma’am, which is strange, because part of me still feels like a fifteen year old, but then I remember that was half a life time ago. Growing up is such a strange process, or rather how memories about it. I don’t think I ever imagined what my life would be like at thirty when I was just a teenager. I couldn’t see past what my twenties would be like, but now they’re over, and they looked nothing like I imagined.
Certainly, my life doesn’t look like what it’s supposed to look like at my age (whatever that means). I’m not married, I don’t have kids, I haven’t travelled the world, but I’ve done many other things. Events that ten years ago, I thought would never leave the forefront of my mind and distant memories. I suppose the same thing will be true of the events that permeate my mind today. Time will change the resonance and meaning of it all.
I think, I never believed I would live this long. Strange thing to say, since although we’re all conscious of our mortality it always comes as a surprise when someone dies. My Dad was always convinced he would never live long, probably has something to so with his father dying when my Dad was only thirteen. I was also quite the rebel teenager, I never thought I would reach thirty, and in a lot of ways that might have been true if I hadn’t made some changes in my lifestyle. Mostly booze and drugs, but even sober I never made the best choices. Let’s just say I put myself in a lot of dangerous situations.
If I had a girl who did half the shit I did, I would have a heart attack. More than one probably. Truth is I put my parents through a lot of shit. It must not have been easy to be my Mom and Dad, but then again they didn’t always make it easy to be their daughter. Not to imply that they were bad parents, because I know they love me, and I know they made a lot of sacrifices to take care of me, but were all human and none of us are perfect. Pretty obvious, right?
When my parents split up, they weren’t that much older than I am, and I remember constantly telling my Dad and his girlfriend that they were old. It was a little joke at home. A six-year-old telling them they were old… I can’t believe they were almost the same age as I am now. I don’t feel as “adult” as they were at the time. Crazy. I suppose they felt the same way when I was telling them how old they were.