Late 1980’s
I’m freshly, garishly dressed, having spent most of my Saturday morning watching the latest music clips on Rage. The inspiration is obvious. My hair is teased at least a hand’s height above my head, I’m still trying to unstick my eyelashes from the deluge of hairspray I’ve used and my outfit is red and blue hair ties (brave choice for a redhead), red shirt, blue skirt, red tights, blue shoes. I trail my Mum as we go to the shops, when suddenly I see them – the Year 12 girls. Their maturity is captivating, poise and grace as thick around them as the smell of grape HubbaBubba. One day, I tell myself, I’m going to be 18 and mature like they are, I’m going to know what’s going on, and life is going to make sense.
Mid 1990’s
In the one year I became old enough to vote, legally drink, join the Royal Australian Navy and be legally considered an adult. Standing on an Army firing range, Steyr rifle casually hanging off one arm, the reality of my age smacked me upside the head. What on earth are they THINKING? I asked myself. I’m only 18! Just months out of high school! Don’t give me a GUN – what are you, nuts? A baritone boom of my surname interrupts my incredulity, then I saluted and answered my Captain. One day, I told myself as he walked away, command and bearing as obvious as his insignia, I’ll be 32. I’ll know what’s going on, I won’t be making stupid decisions, and life is going to make sense.
Mid 2000’s
I’m up to my mammaries in parenting, marriage, church and work. I know I’m older (after all, I’m the one who buys the candles for the cake!) but certainly don’t know everything like my younger (and obviously delusional) self had hoped. Of a Sunday, or at Homemaking/HFPE/Visiting Teaching meetings I’d watch women with teenage children have complete conversations about – sorry, what were you saying? I just had to stop my son shaving the dog – while wearing coordinated, unwrinkled outfits. Their tall sons would stoop way, way down to better tickle my sons, and I’d think One day, I’m going to be the mother of teenagers. Life will be settled, and I’ll have time to get organised, and I’ll know what I’m meant to be doing and be on time.
The last three years
I got divorced, became a single parent, moved twice thousands of kilometres, started a university degree and seriously, regularly believed that I was going insane, if I had not already left Sanity far behind me. I have many of the trappings of responsible adulthood. I vote, I feed my children vegetables regularly, I do what has to be done more than what I want to do, I say please and thank you even to people I don’t like. I don’t start fist-fights anymore (no matter how much I long to) and while still a natural redhead, have discovered chrome detailing I wasn’t expecting. I pay my bills, I budget, I wash the dishes, I obey the road rules. I fulfil my responsibilities to my parents, I teach my children and consider life insurance when the ad comes on the television.
While sometimes I feel as old as a mountain, groaning and creaking my way across my to-do lists, at other times my inner Real Me jumps out. Real Me escapes the dishes to go outside in the rain and splash in the puddles. Real Me lies on the grass and says “WOW” at the incredible sky. Far from putting away my younger love of science fiction, now I clench it even more fervently to my chest and read far too late into the early morning, knowing full well the havoc it will cause the next day but gleefully not caring.
Turns out I’m a grown up. I don’t know what’s going on all the time, I’m not very organised, continue to make spectacularly stupid mistakes and quite often I’m not certain I know what I’m doing. I’m not even looking at future ages anymore, saying that by THEN I’ll be THIS, or THAT, or WHATEVER. At the moment, just today – and the careful, hopeful plans unfurling each day – is enough. However old or young I may really be.
Have you become a grown up? How does it happen? Does your age surprise you? What makes you feel like a grown up and what makes you squeal, jitterbug or dance in an explosion of youth?
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