Growing up with half a dozen older siblings forced me to constantly check-in with myself and make sure I wasn't trying to grow up too fast. As lucky #7, looking up to my siblings was looking up to sisters getting engaged and brothers making down payments on their first homes. Turning twenty last week made me feel like a little part of me had caught up with the rest of the bunch. I would no longer be referred to as the little teenage sister.
As this feeling set in, I wondered what it really meant to "grow up." Will the songs I can sing along to become the "oldies" on the radio? Will my old photos be used as illustrations of the fashion faux pas of generations past? Will my conversations start revolving around the pros and cons of the local grocery stores? Will I wake up at 5a.m. more often than I go to sleep at that same hour? Maybe some day, but for now, the only glimpse of adulthood I've noticed is a greater appreciation for flowers. I received four different arrangements in the past week and I'm finding them to be a lovelier gift than I would have as a sweet sixteen-year-old.
So, as I strive to juggle this balancing act of sustaining my youth while appropriately implementing the right dosages of maturity, I think to myself "baby steps, ma chérie, baby steps."