The past nineteen years have seemed...well, long. While listening to people talk about working at the same job for over twenty-five years, I am completely baffled by how someone could do the same thing for so long. In the past six years alone, I have worked ten different jobs, and I already know that I couldn't work a single one of them for more than a few years. The strange thing is that nineteen years is a long time...relatively. For me, it's my whole life. For others, it's nothing but the good old days before grown-up jobs and kids and bills, bills, and more bills.
Since I'll only be a teenager for a few more days, I figure it's time to reflect upon these past nineteen years.
The first four months of my life were fairly insignificant. I don't remember anything about them, and the only important thing that happened was that my birth mother decided to give me up for adoption. I was put into foster care for a few months, and then, as a Christmas present to me (and my parents), I was adopted. We spent a few years in Marshalltown, where I made some of my first friends, before moving to Altoona. We didn't stay there long, and I don't remember meeting anyone, so the time we spent there doesn't matter much to me.
Just before I turned four, my family—including the new addition of my brother—moved to Fayette. Shorty after moving to Fayette, I started kindergarten at West Central in the neighboring—and even smaller—city of Maynard. I don't remember those years very well. I remember being jealous of my classmates losing their first teeth and watching the growing tally of lost teeth before I had lost my first. I also remember the long bus rides and my "scuba diving" adventures beneath the seats on school bus no. 1.
I believe it was in seventh or eighth grade that I discovered both an interest and a disgust in boys. My first "relationship" started with one of my friends asking me who I'd like to date. At that time, there was only one boy I was interested in, but I didn't want to say that out loud, so she went through a list of all the boys in our class. After each boy's name, I shot her down with a quick "no" before she got to that one boy. In the lunch line, she ran ahead to ask him if he'd be my boyfriend. When she came back with a "yes," I remember feeling giddy. The toughest choice of that day was deciding whether or not I should sit with him at lunch. (I still don't remember what I concluded.)
We spent a Christmas together, and by "together," I mean that we were technically dating over the Christmas holiday. His "thank you" card that followed a week or so later praised the gifts I had given, which were actually fairly childish when I think back on them, and ended with "I love you." I dismissed it, like a giggly first grader. Please note that I also hung up the phone every time a phone call with him ended in those three words, because even back then, I guess I liked to play games.
As innocent things do, that relationship ended shortly after it had begun. This time, it ended with a scribbled message on notebook paper (from me) saying "It's over," without an explanation, delivered by my ever-faithful best friend. I can't remember what sort of justification I had given myself or my friends, but like I said, I liked to play games back then.
High school passed both very slowly and very quickly. While I was sitting in the hot un-air-conditioned classrooms with my legs sticking to the chairs, I longed for the few months of freedom offered by summer break. But while I was sitting at home on the long summer days, I just wanted to be back at school, rehearsing for the plays, memorizing my lines for speech, or learning new music in band and choir.
My first real relationship began during the summer before my senior year. Although I don't want to get into details, I do think it's important to say that even the messiest endings lead to new beginnings. I know this, because the next summer, I met the only person I've ever felt truly comfortable with, and my life changed completely.
If I took the time to write about all the good that has come from meeting this person, you would stop reading before the end if you haven't already. All that you need to know is that these last two years have been two of the most important. I have fought through and won against depression. I have realized that even though my parents drove me crazy while I was living at home, they only meant the best. And I have made it onto the Dean's List for the past two semesters. I just made my first adult purchase—a 2013 Mazda 2. I feel financially stable and capable of paying my bills. I have two jobs I love. And I just moved into my first apartment.
Now, as I live through this last week before my twentieth birthday, I can't help but wonder what this next year will bring. I already feel like I have everything I ever wanted for myself at this age, but I can't wait to discover what else I hadn't even thought to want. Well, here goes. Here's to being twenty!
