It seems unfathomable that I will turn eighteen on Sunday. Turning eighteen will be another big milestone I’ve reached throughout my life. Prior milestones include turning one years old. Saying my first words. Starting kindergarten. Acting in a professional production of The King and I. Raising a puppy. Graduating from eighth grade. Getting my first job at an overpriced lemonade stand. Getting my driver’s license. Being accepted into college. Publishing my writing. Graduating from high school. Having a real life internship. For some reason, this milestone does not appear to carry as much weight as my childhood milestones. Recently I’ve reflected on what being eighteen will mean for me. I’ve found that my inner Peter Pan constantly reminds me to never grow up, causing me to dread the idea of being a legal adult.
When I think about legal privileges an eighteen year old holds, very few excite me. Of course there’s the right to vote. I’m not one for politics, but this right will be extremely handy in the upcoming presidential election this fall. However, other than that, there doesn’t seem to be much else. Sure, I can buy cigarettes and lotto tickets, but neither of those are actions I foresee myself doing. I can serve and pour alcohol at work, but I cannot legally drink it. I can go to jail if I was to commit a felony. I can get a tattoo or my ears pierced without parental permission. This leads me to perhaps the most exciting and daunting aspect of being an eighteen year old: Having the freedom to make my own decision and be liable for me, myself, and I.
Since I’m home for the summer, I’ve had several doctors appointments. As a seventeen year old with two busy working parents, I’ve gone to this appointments by myself. However, I’ve carried a note that says something like this…
I, John LeMay, give my daughter, Emma LeMay, my permission to be treated by Dr. __________ on 6/24/16.
This may seem irrelevant, but for my next doctor’s appointment, I won’t need that note; I won’t be a minor anymore. As an independent member of society, I’ll have the right to make my own choices.
This statements feels especially important because I will be in Florence from August-May. I’ll be liable for myself, and my parents won’t be there to make decisions for me. It’s scary thinking about being in a foreign country where I’ll have to navigate myself around, pay and shop for my own food and living essentials, and people my age will be legal to drink. I know I’ll have moments when I wish someone else could choose what to do in difficult situations for me.
This freedom I’ll gain as an eighteen year old is something many kids can’t wait for. But I’ve realized that I’m going to miss having the freedom of not having to make big decisions as a child. It’s funny how when we are kids, we so desperately want to be “grown ups.” When we are ‘adults’ or older teenagers, we long for our days as carefree children.
There’s no doubt eighteen is a milestone. The very beginning of adulthood. But eighteen year olds are barely adults, and no matter how old you are, there’s always more growing up and growing young to do.
