Southwestern College Collegian

Issue date: 4/16/08 Section: Personal Column

When I was five I wanted to be 10 because 10 year olds were fifth graders and fifth graders ruled the school. At 10 I wanted to 13 because 13 year olds were teenagers. On my 13th birthday I started planning my life at 16 and as I blew out the candles on my sweet 16 cake I anticipated turning 18 because it would mark the end of my K-12 career. When I turned 18 I started counting down the days until my 21st birthday and when it came I stopped wanting to get older, until last night. Last night I remembered why every year I looked forward to getting older. It was because secretly I knew age would be the only way to escape living at home with my mother. When I found myself in my room in the dark unable to watch TV or use my cell phone which I pay the bill for, I realized even a 21-year-old can be punished. The next three months of my life are going to be hell. While summer means vacations in warm places and reuniting with friends who have been away at college, it also marks the end of the independence experienced all year. Now someone is constantly going to be telling me when to get up. Interrupting my afternoon naps and Saturday sleep-ins for no reason. Someone is going to be asking me questions that aren't really any of their business. Like "Who was that?" when I hang up my phone. Or "Where are you going?" as I leave the house. Someone is going to want me to clean a house I haven't lived in for almost a year. She's going to be going through my boxes and touching my laundry. She'll probably mess up a favorite shirt or two and justify it by saying, "You think I got mad when you used to slobber on my clothes?" My mother is going to try to enforce a 12 a.m. curfew that will constantly get broken, and like tonight, I'll sit in my room in the dark listening to a voice yell from a nearby bedroom about how important it is to listen to one's parent. My gas is going to get used up making frequent trips to the grocery store for ingredients she forgot to buy. I won't get reimbursed for it because she'll bring up money I already owe her or a time she gave me money to buy something at the store and I kept the change. And there isn't anything I can do or say about it. Packing to go home also means putting away my independence. The Ashley I am while at school is going to be placed in a box on the top shelf of my closet. I'll visit her every once in a while, and she'll beg me to come out and play but I will keep her closed up. My mom will probably move her without my knowledge and I'll spend the majority of summer remembering her, reliving the good times through Facebook and Myspace. Then August will come. I will wave goodbye to my friends, put away my strawberries and sugar, and kiss my nephew one more time. A truck will be loaded up with boxes that have taken the same trip several times. I'll pull myself off the shelf and go back to conquering the world my own way.

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