Flights of Fancy

I have nine days to go before the last graduation party of the summer.
In eighteen days I have to finish the final draft of the story I'm writing for Doc.
David moves into school in twenty days.
His birthday is in twenty-one.
And I move into school in twenty-four days and change.

I have been alive for 6,588 days. By United States standards, I've been an adult for twelve of those. When I was younger, I always thought that, upon reaching the age of consent, one would instantly know what to do in any given situation. I thought that thirteen years of school and a lifetime of wisdom and experience would give a person everything they needed to float through adulthood.

Needless to say, I was wrong. I've been through those 2,360 days in the classroom. I've had 4,198 other days to gather up some other wisdom that can't be taught by even the best instructors.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. My life has been entirely ad-libbed thus far. Why should the rest of it go any differently?

Anyway. As I mentioned earlier, I have less than a month before I move into school. You know those times in your life that are so dreaded or seem so far away that it almost feels as though they'll never arrive? To me, this is one of those instances. It's starting to sink in that I'm no longer a Mount student. I'm no longer bound by any laws mandating education. I'm no longer going to be living with my parents year-round. I'll more or less be on my own. That's a scary thought.

As I grow older, I'm beginning to relate more to the lyrics of Paul Simon. He's been my favorite writer/singer since I was thirteen, and now that life is starting to happen more often, such lines as "Holes in my confidence, holes in the knees of my jeans" and "It's not just me and it's not just you, this is all around the world", among many others, have taken on much more personal meanings.

Looks like twenty-three days now.
Lani