What I mean is that when we're young, many birthdays serve as milestones for different privileges and responsibilities we acquire as we move toward adulthood.
On the eve of my 13th birthday I had a dream that let me know just how significant it was to me that I was about to be a teenager. I dreamed that I went to McDonalds and ordered a Happy Meal. They refused to sell one to me because I was 13 years old and too old to have a Happy Meal -they're for children 12 and under. In my dream I was so upset and cried and argued with the McDonalds people about ordering a Happy Meal. When I woke up I laughed, but I knew that somehow I was different and was moving into a new phase of my life, giving up the things of my childhood and growing up.
In the fall of 1988 I turned 15 years old. And, much to the fear of my parents, it was time to learn to drive. Mom knew she wouldn't do it. So, it was left to dad. And this is how I learned:
Dad wouldn't get in the car with me. So, he hung onto the side of the 1980 Ford Fairmont with one hand and his golf club in the other while I learned how to drive. I don't know what he thought he was controlling by holding onto the side, or what he was going to do with the golf club, but this is how I learned.
At 16, I was old enough to get a job and earn my own money (besides babysitting), so I worked at JC Penneys in the lingerie department (another day, another post). At age 17, I knew I was old enough to see a rated "R" movie. Even though the first one I went to, I still asked my parents' permission. At 18 yrs old I couldn't wait to register to vote. At 21, even though I didn't really drink at the time, I made an intentional trip to the grocery store and bought a 4-pack of wine coolers. I drank one and thought I would be sick because it was so sweet it made my stomach hurt. But, I could buy alcohol, by golly.
Now that I'm 34 I don't really have any of those types of birthday milestones left, other than probably retirement or social security. Or, when I'm 55, I can go to McDonalds and get a cup of coffee for 60 cents. Most of the time, I have to think about how old I am because I lose track if its 33 or 34. It seems as we get older the years run together a little more.
Until we get to be really old, then every year is a milestone. Will's grandmother, Grandma, is 88 and she knows EXACTLY how old she is. Everyday, she knows. And she'll tell you. I've noticed a lot of old people are like that. Maybe it's because she realizes that every year she lives is a gift. Maybe it's because it's hard to not know how old you are because you feel your age every moment of the day in the aching of your body. Maybe it's because you're pinching yourself, because it's hard to believe you've been alive that many years. Maybe it's all those things.
I want to remember to be grateful for every year I'm alive, even if right now the birthday milestones aren't as significant and the years run together. I am grateful for my health, my family, my work, and that I can live a comfortable life that affords me the opportunity to enjoy the things I love most. I'm grateful for the life I've lived up to this point and excited about counting the years ahead of me, too.
At 16, I was old enough to get a job and earn my own money (besides babysitting), so I worked at JC Penneys in the lingerie department (another day, another post). At age 17, I knew I was old enough to see a rated "R" movie. Even though the first one I went to, I still asked my parents' permission. At 18 yrs old I couldn't wait to register to vote. At 21, even though I didn't really drink at the time, I made an intentional trip to the grocery store and bought a 4-pack of wine coolers. I drank one and thought I would be sick because it was so sweet it made my stomach hurt. But, I could buy alcohol, by golly.
Now that I'm 34 I don't really have any of those types of birthday milestones left, other than probably retirement or social security. Or, when I'm 55, I can go to McDonalds and get a cup of coffee for 60 cents. Most of the time, I have to think about how old I am because I lose track if its 33 or 34. It seems as we get older the years run together a little more.
Until we get to be really old, then every year is a milestone. Will's grandmother, Grandma, is 88 and she knows EXACTLY how old she is. Everyday, she knows. And she'll tell you. I've noticed a lot of old people are like that. Maybe it's because she realizes that every year she lives is a gift. Maybe it's because it's hard to not know how old you are because you feel your age every moment of the day in the aching of your body. Maybe it's because you're pinching yourself, because it's hard to believe you've been alive that many years. Maybe it's all those things.
I want to remember to be grateful for every year I'm alive, even if right now the birthday milestones aren't as significant and the years run together. I am grateful for my health, my family, my work, and that I can live a comfortable life that affords me the opportunity to enjoy the things I love most. I'm grateful for the life I've lived up to this point and excited about counting the years ahead of me, too.
1 comment:
HA! this one made me laugh out loud! thank you for that. i'm trying to think of memories from my milestones...
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