Adulting

Sometimes, the day is nothing but clear skies, sunshine, and chirping birds. You do your school and you walk to your job and you think about the fact that you live in an entirely different province than your parents. You’re adulting. You pay your bills, you buy your groceries, and you are entirely responsible for watering the plants and making sure they don’t die. But even adulting young adults miss their parents. On the nicest days, you miss them the most. Back home on a day like this, you might take a walk to the river, waving at the train conductor as they pass on the tracks through the fields. You might jump on a tractor and start getting the fields ready for planting. You might do a butt-ton of baking because nothing feels as Laura-Ingles  as baking pies from scratch and setting them on the front porch to cool on a sunny day. Whatever it is you would do, its not what you do when you no longer live at home.
Then you go home and lots has changed. You go from house to house to house trying to visit everyone you want to see. You sleep on the floor or the couch because one of your younger siblings has taken over your room. You bake, and you can’t find the things in the places that they were four years ago. You go to the barnyard and realize its different. The barn is gone. You go for a drive instead of a walk because your little brother finally has his license.
Adulting is scary and sad and adventurous and amazing in one mixed emotion that has yet to be given a singular name. Or maybe “adulting” is that emotion. Today, I’m feeling it. Its not quite “homesick” and its not one-hundered-percent “I miss you.” It is the nostalgic feeling that you can always go home but you can’t go back to the way things were. It’s trying to recreate the best memories that live in your highlight reel, and realizing that its time to stop recreating and start making new ones. Its calling your friends and family asking every question under the sun in an attempt to not miss out on the ever-changing lives of the ones who have yet to leave.
Its not a bad feeling or necessarily a happy feeling. It just is.

*Dear world, I don’t remember the last time I wrote. Well, the last time I wrote and posted. I’m way out of practice. I have 17 drafts saved that I started, lost inspiration, and dropped it. Have a lovely day, no matter where you are adulting.
All my love,
Sarah

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