Being the Adult
Some days, you have to stop and remind yourself what you're doing.
Others, it is second nature.
You learned from the best.
You are a mixture of them all.
The instincts that kick in, the words that flow out of your mouth with ease were imprinted on you somewhere along the lines by them.
And you're doing that now.
You're surrounded by 12 year olds.
You wonder when you became so old.
So jaded.
You mentally repeat the same old jokes as you talk quietly on the sidelines because he doesn't raise or bring down the roof.
You eat dinner with the only one who has an idea of what it's like, and yet, he doesn't.
And you wonder when you became the adult.
Perhaps, you always have been.
Hotel rooms blend from one to another as do the days. And you manage to get through, forgetting all but the job.
Losing yourself.
(It's what you wanted to do, isn't it?)
And one day, or night, or maybe its even morning where you are--- you don't know because you're too tired to care any more, a delivery is waiting for.
Only it's not one of the typical packages or advance info.
No, it's just a bouquet of flowers.
The note simple: 'I didn't forget even if it doesn't count. Tell me, do I still have time to change your mind?'
And you slump onto the bed.
Wonder when it happened.
When time passed.
When he became the adult.
And you know it's no longer enough being the adult on this ride.
So you call him.
Only, instead of reminding him that he has the wrong date or thanking him, you find yourself asking him if he still knows the way out.
There's a pause, and you are forced to wonder if he even knows what you mean.
A sigh.
And then a familiar promise: "as long as I have a job, you have one."
And you smile because for the first time in a long time you aren't the only adult who gets it.