Now I Know What They Meant

I wrote this for mom and dad in May of 2005. There's nothing else of interest going on right now, so I thought I'd share.

Now I know what they meant.
"Life is hard, you're still too young"
Too young to listen,
Too young to know wisdom when I heard it.
So off I went, miles from home,
To play the role of an "adult".
Ah, independence.
My space, my kitchen,
My coffee maker.
Out at midnight,
In a dawn.
Once.
The alone on Friday nights....
And Saturday....
I call home, I want my mama
She laughs, "I'll never say I told you so".
Instead, she mails a check.
Her own way of worrying.
Home on the weekend,
Every weekend now (just to do laundry).
Then back to my home, back to reality.
Back to bills, loud neighbors,
And constant sirens.
The city.
Daddy calls,
"Just to say I love you".
I cry afterwards.
The sicknesses come.
I play mama to myself.
She did it better.
Phoning home every night.
They can't talk right now, they're eating.
My TV dinner sits frozen in front of me.

Now home for good, the lease is up.
Secretly relieved,
Real life and I disagreed.
A twenty year old
Who aches to be a child again.
But missing that year, that year of independence.
Now I know what they meant.

I had a momentary lapse when I walked into my kitchen a few minutes ago.

I was thrown back to 1995, when I lived on Dairy Ashford on the west side of Houston. My first apartment. My brother lived about a mile away, so I still had a safety net of somesort, but it was MY PLACE. I moved in when I was 19. I remember my friend, Bob, coming over and saying, "Wow. It looks like a grown up lives here." I had matching bedroom furniture, a coffee table, a dining table, pictures on the bookshelf and a coordinated bathroom.

Grown.Up.

I had the allusion of being a grown up. But I was 19. I was incomplete.

When the lease was up, I moved back home. Re-grouped. Grew alittle. Met a guy, moved in with said guy....I don't know if I grew during that time. I was too busy partying. Said guy and I broke up, back on my own again. Maybe grew a little.

Then back home for a couple of months, then to Seattle. I think I grew on the way here, but then started partying again, so the growing stopped.

Met The Ex, dated, didn't dated, dated again, he moved in, he moved out, I moved in, we moved together, more partying, the allusion of growing, but really, no. No growing.

Broke up with The Ex, I sleep on this couch, I sleep on that couch, I finally find a home. I plant my feet.

Suddenly, HUGE friggin' growth spurt.

My head hurts.

This growing up stuff is SO much more complicated than I thought it would be.