People talk endlessly about what it means to grow up. What changes, what it feels like, what starts and what ends. Especially when you’re in your twenties, everyone talks at you like you’re some rare and mildly venomous unicorn learning how to fly. “But you’re in your twenties,” they say, as an answer to pretty much everything. It ends up being the reason AND the excuse AND the fault all at once.
My observations about becoming an adult: you just have to deal with a lot more logistics. That’s all adulthood is, the logistics of living, of life. Another thing I’m picking up on? Motherhood seems to be essentially just taking on the logistics of another (tiny) person.
I want to be five again.
image from Whisk & Whittle