Today was a good day. I drove out to Addison to meet a friend for lunch and on the way, I saw a train! I’m not sure if 26 year old women are still supposed to get excited about seeing trains, but I love them! 
Seeing the train kind of got me thinking about what it means to be an adult. I grew up thinking, “Okay… once I reach a certain age or cross a certain line, then I will be an adult.” I believed that being an adult was something that would just eventually happen. One day, I’d wake up and I’d prefer documentaries to Disney. I’d stop geeking out over passing trains. I’d stop secretly pretending to be a super hero while I work out. I’d enjoy things like going out to bars and clubs more than I enjoy sitting at home with a book. I’d start to appreciate the value of things like taxes and mortgages and new refrigerators. I’d prefer heels and cute flats to bare feet and flip flops.
None of that has happened yet. And you know, frankly, I’m not sure I want it to happen. I like who I am. And that doesn’t make me any less of an adult. I know plenty of adults who love Disney and who prefer comfort to style and who don’t know the first things about taxes. Life itself is a learning process. We don’t reach a point where we’re full grown and suddenly we’ve got everything figured out, and I don’t think we’re meant to. How boring would that be, to have all the answers all the time?
So, I will continue to go about my life, delighting over trains, marathoning Disney movies, and saving the world from my elliptical.
Oh, and building extravagant blanket forts for my cat.
Carry on, friends.
A Platform of Sorts 