It happened. I wasn’t paying attention, I guess. I became … an adult. It wasn’t the years adding up, the gray hairs multiplying or the occasional painful toe stiffening. But 2014 brought those sneaky mileposts and tasks that brand one into adulthood. It’s the drinking a bit less, the dedicating time to run a lot, the satisfying Friday nights at home. They’re things that give me anxiety, too—things my life choices have made even more challenging. Shipping my belongings across the sea. Buying a new car. Navigating health insurance. Getting married. Arguing with HR about Karl’s right to insurance. Hiring a lawyer to fight with immigration. Working tirelessly.
Are these accurate markers of adulthood? Or is this readjusting to life in America? I’m not entirely sure.