Grown-ups are not swimming but drowning
I knew growing up would be the absolute worst
“I hate the first of the month,” I’d hear my mother say under her breath as she finishes writing the check to the landlord. She puts our address, 12560 1/2, on the front of the envelope and tells me to put it in the box downstairs. As I make my way back inside she says, “well don’t ask for anything until the next paycheck comes.” There’s some truth to her words and we both know it.
She would say something like this every month when I was a child.
I knew then that I would never look forward to growing up.
Even with all the money in the world, the freedom in which you had as a child ceases to exist. And we’re not just talking about doing whatever you want with minimal consequences. There is one more important. It is the freedom to not worry.
Statistically, many kids have to worry, whether it be for their health or safety, or well-being. But if you are in the majority, you most likely did not. You didn’t have to think about your next meal, new clothes, your education, a warm bed at night. You didn’t have to worry about if the job will pay the bills or if the bills would ever stop coming. You didn’t have to worry about every type of insurance humanely possible and which are the best plans. You didn’t have to plan lightyears ahead away from your retirement or when the car needs a check-up. You didn’t set up spreadsheets and balance checkbooks. You didn’t file your taxes.
Instead you:
- Played with your friends
- Sat in the car looking out the window wondering when you were there yet, magically getting from point A to point B
- Ate lunches out of brown paper bags
- Made Christmas Lists
- Went to summer camp
- Went to birthday parties
- Gazed at the stars
- Rode bikes around town
Your worries weren’t life or death. Your stresses wouldn’t put an eviction notice on your door or send you past due payments. Your struggles wouldn’t make you take a third job just to pay off yet another loan.
I’d see my mother and my father, in their respective homes, at the kitchen table with the light on. Papers covered every square inch of the surface revealing that the rest of “life” were sheets marked with zero’s and one’s that showed how much you have to keep doing to stay afloat.
Growing up was fighting to keep swimming and not drowning.
I never learned how to swim. I guess I can, but not well. I can swim not to drown, but if I drown, I cannot save myself. My arms would flail, my lungs would start screaming, and I would give in to whatever God has for me.
Do you know what I did always love as a kid? The lazy river at waterparks. To just grab a tube and float on a steady endless current that takes you for a gentle ride. You bask in its tranquility. You give into its push. You enjoy its rhythm and peace.
I wouldn’t say I’m grown up yet, but I hope that instead of swimming, I can float on a steady current. There might be some bobs, some people in your way, a change in the direction, but you’re still there, still on that current and you can enjoy it for what it is.
Maybe that’s just the kid in me still dreaming what it’s like to be a grown-up.
