This year, so far, has been all about aging for me. Yes, we've seen exactly one month pass, so it's not like 2012 has had a great deal of time to establish a theme for itself, but even in that first month I've been realizing that I am not as young as I used to be. Given the way time flows, I imagine that reminders of this nature will be coming steadily over the rest of my life, but for some reason this has been concentrated in this particular year.
To be honest, it all started on the night of New Years, when friends wanted to play Twister for reasons I don't completely comprehend even now. As kids, Twister was that wacky game where you went into various awkward positions before falling down laughing. As an adult, Twister is simply a reminder of the failings of your body. Some positions which were theoretically possible as an infinitely flexible youngster are just a source of pain and embarrassment, mostly pain.
Then, of course, I injured myself, though I've spoken about that before it is the kind of thing that reminds you of your own frailty, almost as much as the aforementioned game. More than that, however, one ceases to be young when one realizes that they are not invincible. By falling on my rear end, I stopped being young.
Even positive developments served as a reminder that suddenly, I am adult. I was in a paint store and actually enjoyed standing around comparing different swatches, contemplating what would bring an added punch to my bathroom. I could hear my inner child pouting and having a tantrum, but he was ignored as I tried to decide if I preferred the green or the blue. I liked it, but then again, I kind of liked being young and hating the very idea, so I was conflicted.
The biggest reminder of my increasing age comes in the form of three young men, who I am loathe to admit can be classified as three young men rather than little boys, which they should be. They are my eldest nephews, who are all reaching landmark ages this year, and as a result are making me feel incredibly old.
The eldest will hit 19, and can thus go drinking in this province. The next 16, and will soon be driving, hopefully safely. The youngest of the three will reach 14, which is that age that all young people become incredibly annoying for a year, for reasons I cannot quite explain. This is great for them, I suppose, as they grow up and gain responsibility and generally become fine, upstanding young people. This is, however, not great for me, because in my head they still should be little kids. I remember when they'd run up to me, barely reaching my knees, demanding I read them a story. Now they're the same size and should be able to drive soon. It's just not fair.
I admit I'm not that old, I'm years off from even hitting 30. But for the first time, I realize that I'm now actually an adult, and for all my attempts to delay that realization as long as possible it can't be avoided. I'm a grown up, with grown up problems and even some grown up interests. It's the events of January that made me realize that I'm actually adult now, and it can't be avoided.
The only solace is that in ten years or so, those nephews of mine will realize the exact same thing.
