So this weekend I decided I would take care of some of the more adult responsibilities in my life. Like most independent adult males, I returned home to my mom and dad’s house so I could have my father help me with my taxes. Normally I would be able to do them on my own with a pen and paper but now I have write-offs and deductions and other adult type things that the EZ form doesn’t account for. As a kicker, my parents were watching my sister’s kids (my niece and nephews) so I got a chance to experience, once again, what it’s like to be a care free child that gets help whenever you give a yell.
As an aside, when I returned to my “real life” back in the SC, I had an interesting conversation with my friend Nikki about a story she wrote when she was eleven. The inspiration of her yarn was to predict what her adult life would be like. While her account involved some common themes, it also included some very prestigious accomplishments. The point though, was that between seeing my niece and nephews, coupled with the reading of Nikki’s tale, made me start to imagine what my younger self would think about me and what I’ve accomplished (or how I completely failed).
The sad truth is that I’m not sure how my adolescent persona would feel about the way I’ve turned out, but I think overall he’d be happy. I still ride bikes in the dirt; I have front-row season tickets at the ballpark; I don’t need my parents to give me rides to the movies; I don’t have icky girls in my house that may or may not have cooties (SIDE NOTE: adult Eric isn’t crazy about this one); and I can eat as much ice cream as I want, whenever I want. Sure, I’m not the world renowned architect I thought I should be, but I’ve got a pretty good gig going for me. Even if eleven-year-old Eric may have had loftier goals for me, he probably wouldn’t complain about how things turned out.
As an aside, when I returned to my “real life” back in the SC, I had an interesting conversation with my friend Nikki about a story she wrote when she was eleven. The inspiration of her yarn was to predict what her adult life would be like. While her account involved some common themes, it also included some very prestigious accomplishments. The point though, was that between seeing my niece and nephews, coupled with the reading of Nikki’s tale, made me start to imagine what my younger self would think about me and what I’ve accomplished (or how I completely failed).
The sad truth is that I’m not sure how my adolescent persona would feel about the way I’ve turned out, but I think overall he’d be happy. I still ride bikes in the dirt; I have front-row season tickets at the ballpark; I don’t need my parents to give me rides to the movies; I don’t have icky girls in my house that may or may not have cooties (SIDE NOTE: adult Eric isn’t crazy about this one); and I can eat as much ice cream as I want, whenever I want. Sure, I’m not the world renowned architect I thought I should be, but I’ve got a pretty good gig going for me. Even if eleven-year-old Eric may have had loftier goals for me, he probably wouldn’t complain about how things turned out.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment