One of those moments
I was sitting down for lunch today, eating a steak sandwich and reading a news paper, when it struck me: when did I grow up?
Seven years ago I graduated from high school. Five years ago I moved out for the first time, going halfway across the country in the process. Four years ago, I moved back. Three years ago I fell in love, and Two years ago I got married. One year ago I was layed off and had to take a job I hated. Eight months ago a Neurologist confirmed that the pain I’ve experienced episodically for the past eight years has a name: Cluster Headaches. Six months ago I quit that job and moved to a better one. Three months ago I quit that one for my dream job.
Even after breaking it down, I still can’t figure out when I grew up. Does it even matter?
