I cried on the subway about two weeks ago.
A simple conversation about the way we were raised turned into uncontrollable and spontaneously mourning for a significant period of my life that no longer exists.
I was going off: I don't understand how people don't pay attention! Why don't people know what is going on around them?! My daddy always told me to keep your eyes and ears open.
And then it hit me. He hadn't told me that recently. It was the speech he saves for the first day of school. This was the first time in twenty years I hadn't heard that speech, because I didn't have a first day of school.
Transitioning into the "real world," as they say, has been slow but sure. For about three months now, I have been building up little bits and pieces of what I want and what I need to both survive and be a contributing member to society. In the process though, especially now that summer is gone, I'm trying to figure out exactly how to manage without the structure of preset curricula designed to achieve a fixed goal.
I know I'm prepared. I certainly have a plan. I am accomplishing tasks and achieving goals. But it's weird to know that this girl's days of uniforms, lunch boxes, and homework are really over.