Eighteen

In three hours and forty-four minutes (that is, 3:34am), I will never again be eighteen. Pretty profound-sounding, huh?

I've said this to a few people, but it bares repeating: on one hand, it feels like I've been eighteen for a long time, but on another, I don't feel old enough to be nineteen. Does that make sense?

Since turning eighteen - oh, that disasterous, glorious day - I've been to two states and six countries (California, New Zealand, Australia, Washington, Denmark, Norway and Germany, respectively). A lot of people have died, Grandma's being the one effecting me the most, followed closely by Kelsi's.

There are a lot of things I still haven't done. I've never drunk beer (not that I want to, although it is funny how being nineteen really only marks being able to drink in Canada); I've never successfully driven a stick shift for more than, oh, thirty feet - again, not that I'm in a hurry. I've never had a boyfriend or even been kissed. I guess I should be patient on those ones, too.

This is the first year I really haven't wanted anything for my birthday. And I guess that's a good thing, because it shows how much I already have. :) I have a lot to be grateful for.

For one last time, eighteen,
Andrea