The Last 20 Minutes

Right now, it is 11:40. I have twenty minutes left to be a teenager.

I'm very sentimental about things like that. I love countdowns, anniversary's, and the like. Why? Not quite sure.

I remember my 13th birthday ... It was fun! It was a hotel party, how could a hotel party not be fun, really? And there was my mom, with her hand in the door ... and all us girls freaking out. Oh, good times. Of course, there was teenage girl drama - there usually was.

And now - my first step into those life-changing years as a twenty-something ... and it's SO unmonumental. I spent my day trying to convince myself to do things that will be better in the long run, though it would forfeit short-term "happiness" and allow me to handle things non-confrontationally. (I guess it's mature and all, but I don't like it. Nope. Nope I don't.) And I spent my night being crabby and stressed and oh-so-tired, racking my brains trying to write a paper that I really don't care about. Talk about a good way to end my teenage existence. (Well, perhaps it is emblematic of my later teenage years ...)

Perhaps, in 13 minutes, sparks will fly, fireworks will explode, people will come streaming into my apartment, with noise-makers and food (hopefully it won't be cake - I'm pretty sick of the cake) and champagne or something. And a live band, naturally.

Now we're down to 11 minutes. 11 minutes left to be crazily emotional, immature, silly, boy-crazy, giddy, hormonal, pimply, a dangerous driver, snotty, skinny, foolish-but-acting-wise, rebellious, spontaneous ...

Do those traits ... just ... go away? Cuz a part of me wants them to stay.

Now I'm getting nostalgic. I really want to be a teenager again. Well, okay, I really want to be 21, but I also wouldn't mind staying 18 forever (notice the allusion to a song popular when I was 16). People always glorify childhood. Dude, that was good times too, don't get me wrong. But what's so bad about getting your heart broken, only to fall in love again two weeks later? Or what's so bad about feeling free for the first time you get to drive alone or with your best friend? What's not to love about the afternoons when classes where out? Remember the well-defined social groups, and having summers free to do nothing but read or stay out on trampolines and star-gaze?

Four minutes.

Four minutes, and I shall enter that world of graduating (only to go to school again), job-finding (only to realize you hate your job), and husband-finding (only to realize that his breath smells really bad in the morning).

I should mention, I'm really not that cynical. I have nothing but the highest hopes for the next years of my life. In fact, they could be even better than the last decade or so. I'm so excited for what's in store for me, but ... it's nice to look back and see what you've had. It wasn't always fun. In fact, a lot of times it was downright lousy. But, in the last analysis, I grew up. I became more of myself.

And there's something to say for that.