On Growing Up
What is the definition of driving? Is it the operation of a vehicle? Or is it more than that? To me, driving was at last merging onto the fast freeway of life where I could finally put my foot on the gas, crank up the music, and enjoy growing up. Driving was turning sixteen.
Seconds had taken hours, hours had taken days, and days had taken years. I, now, counted down the minutes to midnight, February 28th, and my thoughts of fast cars and freedom turned to reflections and remembrances of the past fifteen years. I closed my eyes and memories transported me back through time. I felt the security of my big sis’s hands as my pudgy fingers desperately clung to her and I took my first steps. The guilt of stealing licks of cake batter whenever my mother turned her back overwhelmed me; and then, seemingly endless joy flooded over me as I played house and cooked play food for my stuffed animals. My eyes sparkled as my fingertips softly touched the fragile face of my new American Girl doll and my lips danced as I read Molly Saves the Day. A sense of warmness covered me as I returned from my dream-like childhood to present time. I realized that after the days of hopscotch, pogs, and Sesame Street had passed, my life had pushed the gas pedal as I headed up a long hill.
Turning twelve began the subtle transformation from freeze tag, jump rope, and legoland into a life revolving around responsibilities, expectations, and achievements. High school filled in my care-free days with things such as algebra, chemistry, and SAT prep. My closed eyes tried to close tighter as bright light peaked through my eyelashes and refused to go away. I turned over in my bed, but it didn’t help. Against my will, my eyes opened and were immediately drawn to the clock: 8:30 a.m. was displayed in red and an alarm sounded in my head. I had fallen asleep! I missed it! I missed my life rolling over from boring to beautiful! I was sixteen, but I had missed the clock striking midnight! Disappointed, I rolled out of bed and picked out my clothes so I could go take my permit test.
Hours had passed and I skipped out of the Driver’s Center and caught the keys my mom had tossed to me. Excitement overwhelmed me as I got behind the wheel and started for home. I turned right out of the parking lot and headed for the ramp that led to the fast freeway. At first street was narrow and I felt nervous as I slowly crept up the road. My mom tried to talk to me, but my mouth was locked shut. I was too nervous to speak and all of my attention was focused on the road. Eventually, as we got closer to home, I began to loosen up, but I realized that driving wasn’t as easy as I had thought it would be. I had mastered steering and managing my speed pretty well, but the thought of merging and parallel parking frightened me. It had taken awhile, but after I was parked in our driveway I recognized that all of the time I spent anxiously awaiting driving had honestly been almost as exciting as driving itself. Reality has a painful bite. It took me turning sixteen to finally see that being grown up isn’t half as fun as growing up; but now, my next hilltop experiences will be getting my license, owning my first car, being able to afford gas and insurance…Oh, wait, there I go again!
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