lost holiday

Yesterday was the first fourth of July that I haven’t spent with my family, the closest ever before being that time Bailey and I decided it would be an excellent idea to start a road trip at 9am (we made it to just outside LA, realized we wanted to go home, and turned around). Of course, yesterday was not nearly as adventurous, because I wasn’t partaking in a grand scheme concocted by two bored seventeen year old girls. Nay, yesterday was just one more nail into the coffin of my childhood.

That last sentence was a massive downer.

Last night I told Ryan that sooner rather than later I’d be buying a bus ticket and going to visit my parents… Probably without him. Not because I won’t miss Ryan terribly (indeed I will), but because I realized yesterday that I haven’t gone to go visit my parents without a man in tow for over two years, and if I don’t do so now, I may never again.

Lately, I’ve been tearing up the rare times I’m on the phone with my dad, and while at first I just assumed it was my general manic depression at play, I think instead that it’s my final realization that while I still don’t consider myself an “adult,” I am living in an adult would playing adult games. I’m afraid of coming across as ridiculous if I say the word adult one more time, but that’s what it is, isn’t it?

Talking to my mom on the phone a week ago, she mentioned that I could probably just rent a car and use that and it would be cheaper than the bus, and I started to reply, but then realized: “Oh my God – I’m twenty-five now. I can rent a car on Expedia dot com and get a decent rate.” Of course, that would be assuming I had a driver’s license, but there was no good reason to bring that tidbit of joy up. Mature of me to withhold the information? Yes, yes, I know.

Ha.