Growing up, I feel like it’s hard to register all that comes with getting older.
Lately it feels like I’m trying to brain-suck all the ‘big kid’ information I can get before I’m legally my own person next June.
Getting sick and having to take care of yourself sounds grim and miserable—I have no idea how my mom does it regularly. I don’t know if I would survive without her light soup (it’s the Ghanaian equivalent to chicken noodle soup battling a cold for Americans) or her pressing ice to my forehead.
How do you even take care of yourself when you’re sick? Cooking for yourself while under the weather sounds like a nightmare. Or cleaning up your own sickness? A punishment I wouldn’t reserve for my least favorite person alive.
Looking at college move-in prep lists is so overwhelming. Kitchen cabinets don’t come fully stocked, and the luxuries your parents have filled your home with won’t follow you into a tiny triple dorm.
It’s weird knowing that for years I’ve always thought I had more time, but with each day the hourglass fills up with sand that I’m not prepared to deal with.
When does ‘when I grow up,’ become missing being younger?
To this day, I don’t know how to call my bank, and the thought of it is the worst kind of terrifying. It’s going from dipping my toes to just jumping in.
When do you take that jump? And how do you do it without someone holding your hand?
