Of Age

The teenager turns 18 today. As if that isn’t enough to make me feel old in itself, I was 18 when I started dating his father. Commence panic attack.

What do I do with this information? How do I make sense of it? How can I have a stepson who is an adult? Where did the time go?

Of course, I am happy for him because this is an exciting time for a young adult. I am also scared for him because I think we become adults sooner than most of us are ready.

We didn’t make it to this point unscathed, but we did make it and I’d like to think that all of us are stronger and smarter for what we’ve been through. More than anything, I am grateful that his life still holds unlimited possibility.

And hey, if nothing else, he hasn’t gotten anybody pregnant, which is more than we could have said for his father at this age and he still turned out pretty damn well. (love you, honey)

So bring on the cigarette buying, gambling, strip clubs, voting, and legal papers in need of signing (what else can you really do at 18?). Today is the day we celebrate getting here. The end of something and the beginning of everything.