Prismacolors aren’t good on typing paper
I was getting ready for a post-holiday company party (not mine) on Saturday night. I stood in the mirror thinking it would be appropriate to lose the hat.
I couldn’t. It is a part of what makes me feel comfortable, for now.
But in the mirror, something dawned on me. Much like when we realize our teachers are human — they do indeed eat lunch, and take shits; or the point in time when we realize our parents are human — adults who feel and are susceptible to pain…
In that brief slice of self-gazing, I realized I was an adult.
You’d think this would have happened before thirty-three, but no—I’ve somehow always thought of myself as a kid, looking up.
But the face looking back at me was decidedly mature. Eyes peering over glasses, I wondered for a moment and filed it away with the notion that I still have to work on some things. I’ll eat lunch, shit and from time to time, be susceptible to pain.
Another parting thought was, do responsibilities need to shift with this realization.
*not a heavy realization, but more comforting than it comes across in this entry.