I've less than two weeks to two major events in my life. Firstly, I turn the big two-one. Yes, sure I hear you say, turning 18 is possibly more relevant considering I live in England, but 21 is the American version of adulthood too, and so I guess this is really it. It's about to be double-y confirmed. The start of my life as an adult. Secondly, and quite excitedly, I will be leaving university ready to graduate in July with a graduate position to start in September.
In reflection of these two imminent events, it makes me realise not only how quickly life goes - these past three years have flown by - but equally that I have officially become a part of the vaguest age range to be a part of in life (thus far). 20 to 30. A meagre 10 years apart, and yet so much will happen at this stage in my life. Career, love, babies (maybe) (...probably not), marriage (what!), heartache, travel, divorce (who knows?!) and so much more.
Have a conversation with any one of your friend's parents and, I bet, upon discussing your 'age goals', they inform you they'd moved out by the age of 18 with their first mortgage and all. I chuckle, for the reality is that things just aren't like that any more. Times have changed.
But then again, in some sense of the word they really haven't. Sure, my group of friends and I are all young and free but sometimes, just sometimes, I look around, feeling a sense of bewilderment and at times loneliness, viewing the mass of people who dive head first into the serious stuff in life. Am I supposed to be doing that too?
It just seems like everyone's got this big plan for their twenties, and there's me with a blank slate and no drawing equipment in sight...