I am a poser adult

In almost every sense of the term I am an "adult." A young adult, this is true. But I have most certainly completed the passage from childhood and the societally-coined "adolescence" into the great phase of adulthood. I have completed college. I am married. I pay bills (well, indirectly. Yet another handy feature of a husband!). I have a pretty-much full-time job. I go to the dentist by myself. I make sure the thermostat stays at an efficient 78 degree during warm days because I am constantly aware of the utilities costs. And I keep a day planner of events occurring 6 months in advance. My deepest, sincerest sixteen-year-old desire to be a big-time adult has crept upon me and become a big-time reality.

And while I fully embrace my becoming a contributing, autonomous citizen of society, I am honest to admit I secretly cling to my childhood. A few weekends ago, while visiting my parents, I took a trip down the hall and into my room to see what items my mother might have left on my bed to take home as yet another subtle hit to start "tearing down camp" (I can only imagine her suppressed excitement to have an empty room to do with as she pleases). Although I usually attempt to conceal my sentiments when visiting my parents as I understand the importance of letting go and moving on, I found myself particularly drawn to memories of my life in that room, that home. And, guiltily, the thought passed through my head, "I don't wanna grow up yet. Rewind! I want to have all other guests go home (yes, including my own husband) and I want to curl up in my own bed with all the safe and familiar surroundings to fall asleep to."

Fleeting as those thoughts were, I couldn't shake the notion that I sometimes wish I were a younger Corinne, eating pizza with my family on Friday nights and worrying about which outfit I was going to wear the next day. Granted, I continue to live a very, very blessed and relatively care-free life. I am so undeservedly showered with abundance: a husband who continues to exceed my expectations, a comfortable and well-furnished apartment, a very enjoyable job, a student loan that has been already completely paid off... all the luxuries an adult could ask for. But there is still a part of me which misses my life with that family in our home as eight- and twelve- and seventeen-year-old Corinne.

So, while I function in the role of "adult" I'm still growing into my new skin. It's a bittersweet transition. But perhaps I don't really ever want to let go of that love and adoration for my childhood...