The Week I Grew Up

Okay, I'm an exaggerator and that was an exaggeration. Much like my childhood hero Peter Pan, I don't plan to ever grow up, but lately I'm feeling the tug of adulthood.

The past two weeks I've been spending a lot of time with my ex-boyfriend.

Is your heart racing a little bit? Chillax. Not my most recent ex; no, the past few weeks I've been spending time with Clay. After two years crushing from afar, Clay and I dated my freshman and sophomore year. We would meet at the top of the gym after school everyday before he went to tennis practice, and he drove me home from my first prom because our dates had started dating other people. He took me on my first real date, and back then I didn't know the greatness of being "In a Relationship" on Facebook, and neither did anyone else. Ah, simpler times...

But I digress. Clay's about to move to Dallas in pursuit of a grown-up job. This week he's graduated from Auburn-- I went to my first Auburn game with him, by the way-- bought his own insurance, and sold the car that drove me to Dairy Queen countless times in high school. As I have observed all these things, it's become suddenly, uncomfortably clear to me: we're growing up. All of us. Everyone I was close to in high school and college: we're all growing up.

Tonight I played tennis with Wade and David (and Anna, but she's not part of this trip down Memory Lane), and I couldn't help but think back to our trips to Zaxby's after Wednesday night church or wing night in Albertville every Monday in tenth grade... and how long ago that was, how much my whole worldview has changed since then.

I talked to my Mini Me the night before she started 11th grade. She had her outfit picked out, and I demanded to see a picture and hear all about it the next day. Memories flooded my mind as we texted back and forth of my first day of school junior year. Undoubtedly, I picked out my outfit days in advance, but I would've been horrified for anyone to know how much I cared. I was very into not caring that year, as that was the Year of the Hippie. Bands that went mainstream were sell-outs, and Lauren and I raced to outdo the other's hippiness: she went for Janis Joplin, while I went the Bob Dylan route. More than anything, we conformed to the nonconformity trend sweeping the hallways of our high school.

Not only do I not particularly care to think back on Weird Lindsey, but it's difficult simply because it was so long ago. I think my career ambitions have a lot to do with my Peter Pan complex: if I work in Neverland- counsel the Lost Boys or attempt to correct the grammar of the pirates of the Jolly Roger- will I ever truly grow up?

I watch my friends moving on with life: Clay moving off to Dallas, Wade and David commuting to Huntsville everyday (hello, commuting-- grown up word), and another friend getting engaged every week, I see how far we've all come. And I wonder... how much longer til it's us in our parents' roles?... til our social outings are Sunday School parties and children's sporting events?.. til we're packing up our families for Christmas at Grandmother's?... how much longer til I hear myself say in astonishment, "Never in all my life..." and other statements of outrage at the shenanigans of the next generation?

Oy. I wouldn't call myself a Grey's Anatomy junkie, but I'll admit it's my guilty pleasure and so I'll quote Meredith in saying, "I guess we're adults. The question is, when did this happen, and how do we make it stop?"

Also, this disclaimer is unnecessary, but I'll throw it out there just in case the fond tone of my description threw you off: When I say I've been spending time with Clay, I don't mean in a romantic way. We were just young enough when we broke up that we didn't know we were supposed to hate each other after the break up.