When I was a child, I wanted to be a grown up so badly. I remember if we had company over, I always wanted to hang around the grown ups. (Looking back, I'm sure they weren't so thrilled to have a kid hanging around.) But there was something I found so fascinating about those who were older than me. I wanted to know what it was like. I wanted to be "important". To be responsible. And to be in the know. I didn't want to miss a thing. How little I realized what it truly meant to be a grown up. So many burdens to carry. How overbearing those responsibilities I thought would make me important truly are.
And yet, now that I'm a supposed grownup, I still look around and think, "Wait, this is it? Surely I've missed something." Like - when will I be the one cooking the Thanksgiving turkey? Because if it's up to me, that day will be never. I can't imagine having to stick my hand in that bird, remove whatever is in there that needs to be removed, and having to wash it, and then having to cook it to be the most perfect, tender turkey everyone had ever consumed. (Because if I was in charge, it would have to be perfect, of course.)
But yeah, I don't really want that responsibility. I can't picture myself as the one that everyone else looks to to provide the meal for the extended family. Yet I don't give it a second thought that my mom has done it for years. When do you grow up into that? Or maybe some of us don't. Cooking is not my gift after all. Sometimes I think it'd be fun to be more creative in the kitchen, but any time I get into preparing a meal with more than two components, I tend to think, "Why am I doing this? I am not enjoying this at all."
So yeah, perhaps, I'll never be fully grown.
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