Grown Ups.

Here and there, when the time allows, I've been working on a personal essay that maybe someday when it's good and ready I can submit for publication.  There is a piece of it where I talk about those first few moments at the beginning of one's adult life, where you realize with shocking clarity that you are entirely on your own, able to do and choose whatever you please.  My freshman year in college, I remember giving someone my phone number, (this was well before cell phones were commonplace) and realizing, as I watched them write it down that it was MY phone number.  I was the only person at the end of the line, there would be no more messages taken for me by my family if I was out, no more answering questions about who it was that just called, and I could give those digits out to anyone I damn well pleased...or, just as easily, refuse to share them.  The power was all mine.

One of the running jokes my friends and I made often during our early twenties was that one of the markers of true adulthood is allowing yourself to have ice cream for dinner.  Even now, well into my thirties, I am occasionally hit with moments where I think to myself, "no one else in the world knows what I am doing right now."  Of course, if you know me, I tend to have these thoughts while I'm doing something completely innocent like wandering through a used bookstore or skipping out of the office at lunch to squeeze in a yoga class rather than something risque or scandalous.  Still, there's something rather liberating about that feeling, isn't there?  Just last night I was reminiscing about high school with a friend.  As much as I genuinely loved my high school experience, we were commenting on things that would feel so foreign now were we ever to be back inside our high school - asking for permission and getting a hall pass to use the bathroom?  Being forced to only eat during the designated lunch time versus being able to grab a quick snack when and where you're actually hungry?   

Sunday was my first day back in Boston in what felt like weeks after being on the road recently for quite a few various work and pleasure trips.  Desperate to restock my poor bare cupboards, I took myself to Target and Trader Joes (crazy missions on Sundays in December, the both of them).  By the time I got home from Trader Joes and carried load after load of various sundry items up the three flights of stairs from my car, the sun was beginning to set.

Instead of immediately (and responsibly) unloading my groceries, I stopped and opened a bottle of red wine, pouring myself a glass.  Then I grabbed my laptop and opened up Spotify, picking a Christmas tunes playlist.  I rummaged through the grocery bags until I found that treat I'd purchased for myself - a block of Brie cheese.  There.  Priorities.

Being an adult can be kind of a let down at times.  There are bills to pay and jobs to keep and life questions to sort out and responsible decisions around every corner.  But there are also those cold December Sundays when you find yourself dancing around your kitchen at dusk, wearing your fuzziest, warmest, LL Bean slippers, a glass of red wine in hand, a favorite holiday song playing on the radio, and you think to yourself.  You know?  This grown up life you made for yourself is pretty freaking awesome. 

Now pass the Brie.