Sandy Supposes....

Adulting Means Never Say Die

PROMPT May 13th

What does it mean to be a “grown up”? What do you do regularly as an adult that you dreaded having to do when you were a child? Have you found ways to maintain a sense of childhood wonder or curiosity? If so, how?

         Isn't being a grown up a state of mind? Do the years I've been on this earth add up to maturity? In other words, should I be acting my age? What is that exactly? Am I considered wise and all-knowing? What is this elusive 'better' and why should I know about it? Obviously, the older I get the more questions I have. Age has not shielded me from them.

         I suppose being a grown up means I accept responsibility for my actions. In the hustle and bustle, I'm not always responsible for what happens around me, but I am for how I react. I can attempt to control myself and not play the blame game. When and if I hurt someone, I apologize. I struggle to be kind to others and to myself. I am human and thus imperfect.

         Being an adult is not all glitz and glamour. Despite what we fantasized as children making our own decisions is often dreary, and involves too much drudgery. We drag ourselves out of bed and trudge off to our jobs whether we feel inspired, or not.
We show up and adult.

         As a grown up I choose what cookies I will eat and how many. If I wish to binge-watch a t.v. series no one reminds me that I need sleep, or that I'll be waking early the next morning. I will never ever wear a hat , or scarf again because I do not like them. What colds? I don't catch them. I still opt to squint in sunlight and surprise, my face has not stayed permanently twisted. If I want to sit and read a book while I ignore household chores then so be it. Nothing terrible will occur if the dirty dishes pile up. I do not always draw the drapes closed the moment the sun sets and so far I'm still breathing. Who else cares if I make my bed? Gasp, I've taken a risk and spoken with a multitude of strangers and I survived to tell about it. So far, I've not met any serial killers.

         What did I dread having to do as a child? For some inexplicable reason, I dreaded asking for help. I wanted to be independent and I could be stubborn. I've learned that most people are more than happy to assist me in any way and I reciprocate. Teamwork and collaboration is sometimes fun.

         Huh, I'd planned to write that I dreaded taking care of the family's dirty dishes especially drying them. That's a tedious task and now that I consider myself grown up I refuse to towel-dry my dishes. I leave them to drip and air dry. Mind you, some of the dish towel 'wars' I engaged in with my siblings were epic. My skin still retains the sharp memory of a damp snap. As a certified adult, I don't recall any such behaviour. That's a pity.

         A vibrant part of me still refuses to act my age. There's no harm in a bit of mischief now and again. For that I spend agreeable time with my three grandgiggles. I know I'm not too old when I can make them laugh.

         We enjoy our forays and road trips. I am blessed to view things anew with them. I view the cartoons and movies they share with me. I doodle and craft with them. I read children's literature and marvel at not only the stories, but the marvelous illustrations. Above all, I listen and I do not judge. I consider this my third childhood and all I had to do was survive the second one with their parents.