Here Comes the Sun

Finding myself on the edge of 21, and realizing it's a long way down from here, I've started desperately clawing at the wallpaper and tying myself to the trees in one last feverish attempt to hold on to that last drop of youth who's only concern is which dress to wear to the party. A stack of bills sits on the desk in the corner, eagerly awaiting its chance to take the largest bite possible out of my already emaciated wallet.

Times are tough, boys and girls. Times are tough.

The New Year arrived with no hoopla. No shouts and cheers or clanking of glasses overflowing with bubbly. I lay in bed quietly reading a book and when the clock turns over that last remaining minute of the decade, I gently push Matt's shoulder, plant a kiss on his forehead and turn off the light. The last decade was big for me, so it's not to say I had nothing to celebrate, it's just that when you're hardly in your 20's every decade is big. Ten years is plenty of time to make mistakes, fall in love, move away from home, make new friends, lose old friends, take a few leaps, fall on your face once or twice, and essentially come away from it all feeling like you learned some valuable lesson. It's like watching a Brady Bunch rerun marathon. So the end of 2009 seemed like the perfect opportunity to relax. I have an entirely new decade at my feet in which to party, stress, try new things, and immerse myself in the kind of unavoidable drama that won't matter when 2020 rolls around.

It's been six months since I moved away from home and I'm proud to say that there are no plans in the works to move back. The freedom is nice. Finally having the chance to become your own person and learn by doing rather than someone else telling you what you should or shouldn't do. It's much like being a small child in the kitchen all over again. Our mothers, in their all knowing voices warn; "don't touch the stove, you'll burn your hand!" Of course a warning like that only makes us want to touch the stove more. It suddenly becomes that juicy, red, forbidden apple that probably tastes sweeter than all the gummy bears in Candy Heaven combined. We are programmed to learn by doing for ourselves. Regardless of how much we already know it's going to burn like a mother-fucker and leave nasty red welts on our hands for weeks, we still reach out and tentatively challenge the red hot coils, and we still cry and yank back our hands in surprise when those words are proven right. The shock is still the same, but would you have remembered that lesson for the rest of your life if you had just taken your mother's word for it? That's the point I'm at right now. Foolishly touching every stove I can get my hands on. I can only assume that one day the challenge will lose it's appeal and I'll be content with sitting at home reading about people doing stupid things rather than partaking in the stupidity myself, but at this moment in time playing the part of the naive young girl is the only thing that keeps me learning. Everyday the world opens new doors and everyday I comically fall down a flight of stairs just beyond those doors.

Tomorrow, as with most days, I'm going to get up and drive to work and enjoy the best part of my morning: watching the sun come up over the horizon. It only recently occurred to me that most mornings I start my day the same time the sun does. There's something calming about watching the light start to peak over the hills and creep through the trees of a small beach town. I've seen more sunrises and sunsets in the past 6 months than I have over the last 20 years. I feel like one day the memory of those mornings will be something very special to me. Some people would give anything to be able to witness that one last sunrise.