I turned 21 this week. I am simultaneously ecstatic and concerned for what is in store ahead.
I am pessimistically convinced that life will, over-achingly, get worse from this point on. I’ve got a couple of cool level-ups in the future that’ll come with age. Personally, I can’t wait to become 25 so my car insurance drastically decreases and I’m particularly excited for a mid-life crisis around 37. Outside of those ages, what else will I have going on?
Who cares about a mortgage and a car payment? Who’s truly interested in an electric, gas, water, or sewage bill? Who’s actually concerned about lawn maintenance? Am I going to have to plan where I live based on the quality of elementary schools nearby? How much more time do I have until I have to block out a chunk of time from 3-5 to watch a miniature me play a horrible game of flag football? Does life really, truly, actually have to keep progressing?
This year, more than any other year for me, has sped along. I’ve been having the most fun in my life but I’m desperately clinging onto moments before they’re gone.
I’ve been having a hard time remembering the things I do and the memories I make. In part, I think it’s because I’m too concerned with making the memory for the future instead of for the present.
I knew that as my 21st birthday approached, the rest of my life would quickly follow. It’s terrifying for me.
I’ve wanted all the things I listed above my whole life. I want those bills and payments, I want the best lawn on the block, I want my kids to have the best elementary education, I want to watch my kid be mediocre at whatever sport they decide to play. But the closer it gets, the scarier it becomes.
I think it’s natural though. No one’s ever ready to grow up and it will be knocking at my door sooner than I think. I will greet it with open arms when it does, I just hope it’s far, far away from now.
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy being 21 and 22 and 23. I have the rest of my life to worry about the rest of my life. But I only have right now to worry about being 21.
So, in traditional Moscow-spirit, I will be at the Corner Club this weekend. I will enjoy every moment that comes my way. I will make memories with my friends. I will be 21 this weekend and the next and the next, so I will relish in my youth.
Except of course, I’ll be acting 21 during my 37-year-old mid-life crisis.