Fifth-Life Crisis

Today, at work, I was told that I looked like I was twenty-five. TWENTY FIVE!?!? That's nuts! When my co-workers saw the look of distraught on my face, they quickly qualified their statement by saying it was because of the way I dressed and how much I had been traveling every weekend. Nice save guys. Miguel, a new hire, changed the tone of the conversation by saying "¿Solo tienes veinte años? Pues, eres un bebe. Tenemos como veintinueve hasta treinta y tres años" (You're only 20 years old? You're a baby. We're 29 to 33 years old here). Was that supposed to make me feel any better?

 With my 21st birthday quickly approaching (well not really, but still) and having just registered for classes for my LAST YEAR IN COLLEGE (and now this comment), I've started feeling...well...a little old. When did this happen? How did I go from being a wide-eyed freshman to a senior trying to schedule all her classes between noon and three PM (which I failed at miserably because I'll have an 8AM next semester).  I think I'm experiencing a fifth-life crisis. Great!

 As I vented to a dear friend (bless your soul for being so understanding), he helped me realize that I had already transitioned into, dare I say it, adulthood (shivers). "You live on your own for most of the year, have a paying job and maintain your own finances, you've pretty much got a handle on things" was the gist of his lecture. I guess he has a valid point.

 What worries me the most is that I won’t have time to do everything I've always wanted to do (I've got a very long bucket list) before I get to an age where I'm too caught up with work and family or can barely move.  But then I look at my host parents, Lola and Manolo, and see the spirits of 20-some-year-olds inside the bodies of the 70+ year old couple. Both are, to this day, still enthusiastic about traveling, food aficionadas and have date nights once every week. Too cute! They’re constant reminders that age is really nothing but a number and that life can be enjoyed even with a head full of white hair.

Forget this fifth-life crisis; Here’s to the next 38 days in Spain, senior year of college and the many, many fun filled years I have to look forward to.