You know the kind of moment I mean. The one where you know your life will never quite be the same. It occurred the first time I drove a car after passing my drive test. Or when I held my first paycheck in hand. It happened the day I sat in the waiting room waiting for a parent to come out of major surgery. Well, Readers, today I reached another milestone. I am now a part of the group known as the “women,” the ones who are tasked with visiting sick friends, coordinating meals, and writing the perfect meaningful statement in a sympathy card.
How did this happen, you ask? Let me explain. Today I received an e-mail asking me to visit a friend who, for the past three years, has battled a lengthy illness. The past couple of weeks have been extremely difficult, and a friend from church is coordinating visitors. It’s a simple request, a reasonably simple visit. But…isn’t that something only your mom does? I remember secretly breathing a sigh of relief at 12 and again as a teenager when I knew I wasn’t old enough to tackle these adult responsibilities. I could bask in the excuse of immaturity. Then at 20 I was still too young. Whew. Now, at age 26 ½, I have officially joined the elite group and will begin my womanly duty of caring for the poor and looking after the sick and elderly. Okay, I may be exaggerating slightly, but somehow I don’t feel any more prepared now than I did at 12. When did I get old enough to actually become an adult? I guess this means I’m really all grown up now.