While brushing back the side sweeps I had convinced myself were a fantastic idea, my door swings open to that notorious red light, being held by my adorably giddy mother.
"It's Chelsea's 20th birthday! Do you feel older? Tell your birthday tape (she's stuck in the 90's) about what you know now that you're a twenty- something!"
Unsatisfied with my new do, I clipped my bangs back and turned towards the camera. It didn't hit me until that moment. Though I was surrounded by the photos and stuffed animals of my childhood, I was no longer a child. I had missed the window during which drug use and bad behavior would have been admissible. I no longer had my age to fall back on. I had beaten teenage pregnancy, managed to avoid depression/ eating disorders, and graduated high school- not that any of these were a surprise.
A decision to use drugs would no longer be a "teenager experimenting," but instead peg me as an irresponsible 20-something. Not that I've felt like I'm missing out on anything... I've seen how drugs effect people and I'm not interested.
It served as a reminder on the opportunities that close with age. I couldn't go back and decide I wanted to play college soccer, as I didn't play in high school. I couldn't go off campus for lunch and decide to smoke cannabis then return to class stoned. I couldn't walk into the backroom of a trashy- themed party and decide to snort a line of cocaine off the table. Actually, I could, I'd just be a complete idiot.
To reiterate, I'm completely fine that I didn't do any of these things. It's just strange to see all of these doors closing around me. Embracing my twenties with open arms, I look forward to all the doors that are opening, or at least keys being thrown at me... with the expectation that I figure out which doors they open.
The advice I offer, being a women of twenty young years, is let doors close, but only after you've taken notice of all those that are open.
[One is never too old to take ridiculous birthday photos.]
