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When I grow up

Does one ever grow up? Is there a finish line? A time line? A life line? Is it a question of

what I will do or what I have done? Is it about who I will be or who I’ve become?

What does it mean to be a grown-up? It’s a label I’ve never really identified with. Grownup

sounds stodgy and formal. I can’t go there. It feels like a role to play with no room for silly or

trust or childlike wonder. I certainly can’t begin to think of buying a sedan. That’s such a

grownup car.

Grownups have responsibilities that matter, responsibilities with consequences. I would have

to step up to the plate, bite the bullet, get a job, pay the bills. Because I live in the world, I

have been compelled to play the grownup game. I am a reluctant participant in the capitalist

system. I have stepped up to the plate, bitten the bullet, have had a job and have paid the


If you use years as a marker I am very grown up. I live my grownup life quite well actually. As

the years flew by I gained experience, perspective and wisdom. I have scars and scabs and

secrets. I am still growing up.

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