The rays were blazing onto my back leaving the much desired mark, the waves rippled and ebbed back into the ocean, as I lay there taking in the California beach scene.
It’s everything a summer should be, right? Instead, I spent my summer running back and forth from the Oaks and Miller Hall. I can’t say I missed ULV. I never left.
So, this week as I saw my colleagues sprint across campus to share hugs and summer adventures, all I could do was listen.
My summer stories are about reading book after book as I worked in Miller Hall; running up and down stairs as I made rounds in the Oaks; the defeat I suffered against a mouse, ”Tiny,” that refused to leave my room; watching more of my friends get married and attending baby showers. Not too exciting.
Yet, summer was good. Not ideal, but good. I earned two more jobs to add to my resume, cut down my reading list, got caught up on all the latest television shows and met some interesting people. I also mastered the art of writing meaningful messages in wedding and “Congratulations, you’re having a baby” cards.
This summer I lost the -teen at the end of my age and with it sacrificed any right to be care-free.
My loved ones don’t understand what I’m complaining about. My last lazy summer was four years ago. But, the -teen gave me the option of ditching responsibility. I wanted to be independent and mature. Now that I am, I wish I hadn’t grown up so fast.
No more lazy summers are part of growing up. Lazy summers are not the only thing that changes. It’s only the beginning.
My prized possession once was a boom box I bought after collecting all my Christmas money. Now, it is a blue couch I religiously lay on to collect my thoughts at the end of the day.
My favorite thing in the world was going to the mall looking for the infamous red banner with the word “SALE” printed on it. Now, the highlight of my shopping experience is sifting through the clearance shelves at Target.
I could sit and talk on the phone for hours with friends. Now, conversations are interrupted and cut short due to baby cries and beckoning husbands on the other end.
So this summer, as a last ditch effort to regain the child I know lurks in me, I bought a bike. A shiny, turquoise, 18-speed with a cushioned seat. It puts the rusty, blue beach cruiser my dad got me at a thrift store to shame.
I am yet to take full advantage of this new possession. The first time I rode it, I took it to the beach. In the process, I lost my younger brother and sister down the bike lane and got sore thighs. Now, the bike is locked up in my garage at home.
So much for my cry for help. The feeling of losing my siblings just reminded me how maternal I can feel. And, the sore thighs were a reminder of how unfit I really am.
Those of you who still have time, live it up. After you lose your -teen years, there is no turning back. Friendships will change. Inevitable circumstances will surface and soon you will be using statements like “Remember that one time…”
Seasons will have no bearing on your lifestyle. Sunshine or snow, work and responsibilities will still be waiting for you. Slacking off and being care-free will and should no longer be part of your everyday life.
Having married friends does have it’s merit. You can play mommy and quit when you’re sick of it. And, responsibility also has its rewards. Knowing that you are an integral part of a service or organization can give you a warm fuzzy feeling inside. Especially, when you are told so.
Growing isn’t all pain, but it’s not easy. However, an occasional pamper is allowed. Even a bike ride.
