I had a photo taken of me recently, one in which I'm sat on the couch in the conservatory of Alastair's mum's house. One one side of me is Nora, on the other Nick. They are looking away and I am looking at the camera and the bags and wrinkles under my eyes are prominent.

I have recently begun to notice that I am getting older.

Quickly.

I am aging, and it's showing up. This is corresponding with the very real and swift acceptance that I am an adult. I'm a grown-up dealing with grown-up things in a grown-up world.

This doesn't have to do with paying bills. I've done that since I was 17. It's not about budgeting a paycheck and planning the deductions ahead of time. It's not gassing the car or painting a wall. It's not in car insurance or health records. It's not the lack of being carded when I buy alcohol, it's not that people occasionally call me "ma'am". It's not even about going to work, I've been doing that for 21 years now (how shocking to write, shocking to read).

It's not even a feeling. It's like I'm a curio cabinet, you open the doors and there on the shelf is a small urn labelled "Adult". The urn is surrounded by bits of ephemera - a piece of sea polished glass. A feather. A tiny plastic bracelet. It's replaced the urn labelled "Child", which I suspect was never really in there. I think it was empty in there in the beginning. I think there was nothing in me back then.

Those things, they're all responsibilities. There's something more to this, something with more gravitas. It's not having children, any teenager can pull that off. Yes, an element of being an adult has to do with Monday - the nursery called, Nora was ill. I went and got her, gave her some medication, and then flipped my work "Open" sign to "Closed" and took a long nap with her, curled up beside her and fussing over her to make sure her body temperature was right. There is a part of being an adult to that.

But that's not really it. I think it's more about being weary, to some extent. You operate on less sleep than you would like. It's about routines - you write a blog post at 9 am, you drink two cups of coffee before 8, you sit in rush hour traffic at 8:15. It's about being precious about things - you like the granite countertop to be wiped whenever you see a ring on it. You want the dishwasher to be emptied when the cycle is done. You like the bed to be made when the last person exits it.

I see things that make me understand that I'm an adult. A while back a blogger lost her triplets. This week another blogger's daughter passed away. Yet another blogger faced down the anniversary of his wife's death, which happened one day after their daughter's birth. The news keep bringing up Baby P, which is still an incredibly painful story after all this time. And our friend is still hoping to keep hold of his foster daughter, to be able to keep her safe and loved.

Maybe that's what it is. You see rebels shifting people from parts of their countries, their homes. You see children beaten, starved, abandoned. You see earthquakes burying people in mountains of rubble. You see your family being a dick about things because that's all they know how to be. You see the unemployment figures soaring and the house prices plummeting. You see the veins and lines in your hands getting more prominent, you feel your joints as they start to fail.

You become and adult because the news, the world, the environment made you become one. You see the downfalls that we have, the failures, the successes, the joys, and you take them all in because your feet make sure you stay there and do so. You soak up the sun and think of skin cancer, you inhale the flowers and worry about the bees, you know in the back of your mind that you are a responsible person with obligations and people who depend on you. But above all, you read and see things that make you ache and which you know are things that are absolute, that are things you cannot change. Instead of bring a kid and trying to find a way to build a time machine to go back and make things good again, you lower your shoulders in defeat and accept that these things are horrible, they're unbearable, but you cannot create that time machine you wish you could, you cannot make things better.

You spend your life hoping to become the person you think you could become.

And then you see a photo of yourself, and your wrinkles, and the toll that some things have taken on you (both positive and negative) and you realize that maybe you already are that person you hoped you could become.

It's not what you'd expected.

It never is.

-S.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:49 AM | Comments (17) | Add Comment
Post contains 858 words, total size 5 kb.

1 Me thinks you are being too hard on yourself, you look so beautiful in that photo. So you don't look 21 anymore, instead you look like you are in the prime of your life. Just my two cents worth ...

Posted by: Amanda at April 22, 2009 10:26 AM (Lcghc)

2 I still think you look gorgeous. And I can't see the wrinkles - but the freckles are so awesome that I'm jealous.

Posted by: Hannah at April 22, 2009 10:27 AM (V2CrS)

3 You really don't look old but, I know what you mean. I have been struggling with the age thing recently. I look in the mirror and all I see are the spots (at 33!), the black eyes and sagging boobs (and I haven't even had a child), and wrinkles. Where does the time go?!

Posted by: Secret D at April 22, 2009 11:31 AM (01nNz)

4 They can call me an adult, but I'll never be a grown up. Part of the fun over the next few years will be discovering the world again through Nick & Nora's eyes. And just holding them will ease the pain in the news.

Posted by: ~Easy at April 22, 2009 12:45 PM (IVGWz)

5 It's not what you expect, but often is something more... I see the eyes of a happy woman here, not just on the surface but deep down, where it counts. Wrinkles? ha. You look beautiful, Shannon. Fear not.

Posted by: Jules at April 22, 2009 01:34 PM (X/837)

6 Solomon (the King, not me : ) said, "For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief." (Eccl 1:1 Sounds like you and Solomon (the King, not me : ) had a few things in common. The up side to some of this is that we've also seen great, joyful, miraculous things too. Think of how many people you know right now that would be dead (or would never have been born) without miraculous medicine. That's worth focusing on. : )

Posted by: Solomon at April 22, 2009 01:38 PM (x+GoF)

7 I see a beautiful woman surrounded by loved and loving children.

Posted by: Charles at April 22, 2009 01:39 PM (HGTOK)

8 You look happy. You have gorgeous babies and a beautiful house. A loving man in your life and two wonderful step kids. Just thinking about all you have on your plate exhausts me. Yet you still can feel the pain that others feel and care enough to do something about it. Keep up the good work. You look great. Wish I was 38 again.

Posted by: shanna at April 22, 2009 02:18 PM (9Gp5q)

9 Such deep thoughts... I, too, contemplate the growing up thing and I'm quite a bit ahead of you (52). I still like to think it is just a state of mind, not really a number. As others have said, you are lovely... and have so much to be thankful for. Dwelling on the sadness can only bring more sorrow. I figure all my wrinkles have been earned.

Posted by: sue at April 22, 2009 02:51 PM (0K+AI)

10 You look better than me! I'm technically 29, but my 14month old twins have aged me a decade a least in the last year. If I look half as good as you in 5 yrs I'll be incredibly happy.

Posted by: Jungletwins at April 22, 2009 08:00 PM (wyPEC)

11 You look better than me! I'm technically 29, but my 14month old twins have aged me a decade a least in the last year. If I look half as good as you in 5 yrs I'll be incredibly happy.

Posted by: Jungle Mom at April 22, 2009 08:29 PM (wyPEC)

12 I donÂ’t see what you are talking about, you dont look old. You look beautiful.

Posted by: Raul at April 23, 2009 12:38 AM (lxc1h)

13 I see someone who may be a little scared or a little meloncholy that her own youth is moving closer to adulthood. I also see love and more beauty than she even realizes. I see strength and caring. I see a woman, a wife, a lover, a friend, a daughter, a blogger, a photographer. I see creativity and inteligence. I no longer see Helen..... I see Shannon :0)

Posted by: Terry at April 23, 2009 03:08 AM (XRq3E)

14 It's a bittersweet thing to realize you are growing older. YOu like being adult, but you mourn the loss of the sweet young thing you used to be. We all do it - some have a harder time than others. I think you look wonderful, and so do the babies!

Posted by: kenju at April 23, 2009 03:49 AM (hMUhQ)

15 What a totally lovely picture of the three of you.

Posted by: Sarah at April 23, 2009 06:35 PM (fJpeI)

16 The thinkg that brings home to me that I am older and an adult now is that I know there are things I just wont be doing now. Lovely photo by the way.

Posted by: Betty M at April 23, 2009 07:50 PM (RUrdu)

17 I see a teenage girl, with the two kids she's babysitting. Is this one of those trick pictures or something? (smiles.)

Posted by: Wacky Mommy at April 27, 2009 06:59 AM (aTwh2)

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