On being grown up

On Saturday, we went to go buy you a new washing machine. Probably the oddest thing about this is that neither of us considered running this errand together to be odd.

Afterward, you—a responsible, new homeowner—confide that you feel like a terrible grown-up because you don’t know how to do certain domestic things on your own, like buy a new washing machine.

I—an impulsive, newly jobless traveler—respond that I feel like a terrible grown-up because I don’t have an Emergency Contact who lives in the same city as me.

“I think about that,” you tell me. “When you go off the grid, I realize that I would be the first one to figure out you were missing.”

I pause, because you are right. And while I already have been secretly putting you down as my Emergency Contact for the past year, I never thought about it like that. And I definitely never thought that you thought about it like that.

So really, we are both wrong because we have each other. Together, we are probably as grown up as we can be when our average age is 25.

The question is: what happens to us when that changes?

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One thought on “On being grown up

  1. Pingback: One More Time With Feeling | The Middle Pane

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