In my late twenties, we had friends in their 50s. One day I asked Betty at what point she had felt “grown up.” By then, I was thirty-ish, working full-time, raising a son, taking care of a home and married for ten years. I figured I ought to feel grown up.
Betty looked at me and said “I’ll let you know when it happens.”
When I was a kid, I remember wondering when I’d feel grown up. What the “magic moment” would be. Through my working years, I never fully stopped feeling I was pretending to be an adult. I did adult things, had adult responsibilities. I was a mother, a boss, a career person. In charge of forming my son into a responsible citizen … but I felt like a child myself.
Now, I’m a senior citizen. I’m grown up. I don’t know when it happened or why. I never noticed the transition, but I’m not pretending anything. I’m just me, whatever that means.
It didn’t change anything. Funny how things work out.