|Current mood:|| contemplative|
I am 22 years and 7 months old. My brother is 20 years old today. My brother is 18 years, 4 months and 6 days old. My sister is 15 years, 6 months and 14 days old.
I am often compared to my peers, especially at work, not for our similarities, but our differences. I have a work ethic, am married, don't stress about the small things. Essentially, people assume that I am older. Essentially, I feel like I am older.
I haven't seen my 20 year old brother in about 6 months. I find it strange how different we are. I stand and fight and struggle to remain constant. And he runs, dreams and does everything in his power to be unconstant. We share no common weaknesses, no common strengths. Except for the fact that we both get through alive. His scars seem to be deep in his flesh. Mine are burnt into my emotions.
I try to see my 18 year old brother as often as I can. But schedules and distance make it hard. We have a lot more in common than is obvious. I think we both hold onto family too tightly. We stand up for what is right in our own quiet ways. Not passively, but not actively either. And we both have faith. True, his is for God and God's Kingdom. . . and mine is for Life. But in the end. . . isn't it all the same?
I try to see my 15 year old sister as often as I can. But she lives with my 18 year old brother. . . and we come across the same problems. Her and I are as different as two girls can be. She is very social, very boy crazy, very flirtatious, and very physical with her love (not sex, you morons. Hugs and hand holds and leans on shoulders and general cuddliness). I am very anti social. I enjoy studying people more than talking to them. I love the attention from guys but never got to the point where I had posters of them on my walls. And I was a tease. I flirted because I could and more in a more sarcastic manner. And I am not physical with my love much. I love to hug - but once is enough for each greeting.
Where was I going with this post? I think it started when I read that Dusty couldn't believe he was an adult. Or rather, was in awe because he was an adult.
I can't believe I am an adult. I cannot believe I am married. Married to a Naval Sailor. I can't believe I earn and survive on my own money (well, Jon and I together). I can't believe we can by a house and do repairs. I can't believe I can go out to dinner and order a long island and just sit and enjoy it. I can't believe I alone am responsible for my own actions; that my actions have real consequences.
When did all of this happen? I don't realize that one day I am going to be 30. That one day I am going to be a mother. That one day I am going to be 50. That one day my children will be realizing, "My god, I am 18." I can't believe that one day I will be 60 and be looking at my grandchildren, reminiscing and telling stories about when my kids were that young. And I can't believe that one day my grandchildren will look at pictures and say, "My, wasn't she pretty back then?"
How strange growing up is. How strange and small and short it is.
I miss my brothers and sister. I miss us being small and carefree and mischievous. I'm thankful that I have them, though. I can't imagine a life without so much fun and sharing.