Two things:
First, I have officially moved into ma'am territory. I can't remember the first time I was called ma'am; it has slipped into the annals of history. However, I've begun to notice that whenever I forget to get my receipt from the clerk at the grocery store, or whenever I look lost while wandering among the towels, I am greeted not by "Hello, young and fresh-cheeked miss; would you care for any assistance?" but "You forgot your receipt, ma'am," or, "Ma'am, can I help you pick up that rack of towels you just knocked over?"
I guess it's appropriate. I'll be 30 in less than two months. And if you're not grown up at 30, then I don't know when you are.
But the truth is, I secretly don't feel like a grown-up. I never really have. I've always felt that there's something missing that I'm supposed to experience, some sort of test I need to take, or some sort of ID I'll get to carry around with me that says, "Lizardbreath McGee: Certifiable Adult."
I don't know. I wonder if I'll always feel this way, never quite feeling like I've reached adulthood because adulthood will never quite feel like I've anticipated. Maybe that's not such a bad thing, anyway.
Second thing: I really, really like atlases. When I took that trip to New York City, I jotted down the route we took (taking note of the major bridges we crossed and the interstates we went on) so I could look it up in my road atlas when I got home. Which I finally did today.
Sometimes I just love getting it out and tracing routes from place to place, following the massive road system that stretches out from city to city like so much webbing. I wish I could drive to all those places, just keep going and going until I've hit the opposite coast, then go further until I've gone to our southern border, then north, until I've seen every state, talked to the people there, tasted their food.
I don't know why I want to do this... Maybe it's the mystique that I still attach to the road trips my family took when I was a child, when we'd all pile into the car with our coloring books and listen to sing-along tapes and squabble with each other and marvel at the thunderstorms that swept over the desert in between California and Utah. I loved those times.
But for now, since I am 100% car-less, and since humankind has not yet invented a "Mr. Fusion Home Energy Reactor" (but apparently will in the future) and gas prices are frankly horrifying, I doubt I'll be able to take a lengthy road trip anytime in the near future.
So I'll just content myself with the atlas for now. And I'll try to get used to all that ma'am-ing.
3 comments:
I was so thankful to turn thirty.
Every year in my twenties was spent telling strangers that yes, I was really old enough to be the mother of so many little children. Thirty felt like I had finally legitimized my sweet little offspring. In short, my life experiences have not been like yours. And so I learn from you, and give thanks for all that my sweet little Bostonian offspring can teach me.
Forty now. Forty was a...oh, I guess I will set a good example and say "nightmare."
(I did think of that other word. Aren't you impressed by my self-edit button?)
BTW, see you in about 40 hours now!
I know I'm supposed to be a grown-up, I still don't feel like one, either. I always thought grown-ups had much more wisdom and self-assurance than I do. And I doubt that will change when I hit 30 in a few days.
Um, ma'am...I'm pretty sure we need to start road tripping then. Karl is primed and ready! So pull out that atlas!
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