Childhood fading....

At one point or another we all come to the realization that we make really crappy adults.

For many of us it happens somewhere between filing taxes and insurance claims. The little things that make you look back and say "What the junk?! How did I get here?"

I ask this question daily.

I have always been really bad at playing at the rules of any game. When rules are explained, I am usually the one questioning what I can get away with. You will notice this by the smirk of planning and evilness that crosses my face!

"Do I have to put on pants today?"

"Who says I owe you money?"

"I pay my taxes, I can choose what side of the road I drive on!!"

"I'll compromise...I'm not going to do whatever you are asking."

Don't ask me why. I am just really bad at being an adult and figuring out all the rules of the world, and road. That is why I have felt so much comfort in the things that have followed me from my childhood into my fake adulthood. Like Batman! He is never changing and still the coolest guy I've met in 10 years.

But what about the things that are changing. The world is an ever evolving place and it is selfish and unrealistic for me to expect that of my surroundings. I cherish the dolls in my hope chest and the toys in boxes. Yet it is so hard to let go of the things that you connect with your former cooler self.

Like Junior, my car. She got me to both proms, the best concerts I'd ever seen, scavenger hunts, street races, moved from the house to the dorms, to the apartment, back to another house, drove it to my wedding. Yet now she lays there in a junk yard, unusable, because a dog decided she was a chew toy. She deserved a better death than that.

Many times when we realize that our coolness is slowly slipping away we start to react irrationally. I am no exception.....


I...stole a cat.

Now, not just any cat; but Kitty. Kitty is MY cat from my childhood. I got her when I was 8 years old and got to name her all by myself. 8 year old Lindsay was also very original.

When I lived in my parents house Kitty was my best friend. Even though my parents hated it she was always in my room sleeping on my bed or in my closet. When I left for college I was so sad about leaving Kitty behind that my mom got me a stuffed kitty that looked like her. It kind of helped.

Then you know the rest of the story. I went from Dorm to Apartment, Apartment to Married, and Married to Another house living with a good looking but smelly boy. Life moved so fast that I forgot to take Kitty along with me. Before I knew it I had been married 3 years, and Kitty was still living at my parents house.

Now keep in mind that My dad loved Kitty but was not giving her the attention that kitties need. Earlier this year I went over to see Kitty and realize how in bad shape she was. She spent all day in the garage, she was looked at by my dad's large animal doctor once a year, with nothing being documented, and she was covered from head to toe with dreads. She was a Bob Marley Kitty.

And as I looked at my slightly ill-cared-for kitty; while listening to my dad talk about "Kidney Failure" and "Kitty Leukemia"; I felt that familiar feeling of loss all over again. Of childhood and youth further distancing itself from me. Of slowly forming into a stereotype that I so dreadfully feared. Of more familiarity slipping through my finger tips. I felt a need to control this situation. A need to fight. So, like any normal human reaction, I stole her back.

Has this signified my rebellion and unwillingness to change? Maybe, has it changed the fact that life is different and I am still an adult? No. Has it made me feel better about my future? Yes.

She signifies my dreams, heartbreaks, and ambitions, as silly as that sounds. I told her everything. And now she is on my couch sleeping, showing me that 17 yr old Lindsay is not dead, and never will be. I just have to channel her better.

Thanks for listening.