I believe in growing up.
I’m twenty-one-years-old going on thirty-three. I am a Seventh-Day Adventist. I go to college. I have a job. I have a husband. I have two children. I have two dogs. I have no time. To put it mildly: I have a hell of a lot on my plate.
The media has tagged my age group, that is those living the single, simple life, Twixters. The in-between eighteen to twenty-nine, living at home, little or no responsibilities, except maybe college and definitely the night scene.
I have some of these Twixter friends, whom I see little of since I no longer have anything in common with them. One often jibes me, reminding me that had I not gotten pregnant I high school, I would probably be in her same predicament.
Now you’re thinking… “Ooooh, I see. She’s playing House.”
Remember the list earlier? Ye…ah, not all of that was in order.
When I was fifteen, I met my future husband at Silver Spring Spanish Seventh-Day Church. By sixteen, I was foolishly pregnant and by seventeen I was raising Lily while Erick, my husband then Private, was finishing Supply School in Camp Johnson, North Carolina.
It’s been a long, dog-legged road. I have lived different lifetimes.
I remember being a child and then just being… me as I am now. There was no Twixter period for me in which to languish. I will never know what it’s like to own my own place, to wake up daily with a hangover, or to lead my own life. I have become completely self-less, and although I may look a little frazzled at times I love it.
I take solace in the belief that many loving families have risen in circumstances similar to my own.
I am tired of being apologetic for my life.
I thank God for the life He has paved for me to walk.
I will walk it gladly because it is mine to walk.
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