On Turning Thirty

When I was ten, I couldn’t wait to be in high school. I wouldn’t have to wear pinafores. I could wear a skirt. I would be a teen. Older, independent.

When I was in fifteen and in high school, I couldn’t wait to leave. I wanted to grow my nails and paint them. I wanted to dress up, wear colourful outfits, carry stylish handbags and walk to college. I wanted to be older, independent.

When I was in pre-university, I couldn’t wait to be done.

Two years of hard work, get a good rank, get into a good college and you are set for life.

So they said. I couldn’t wait for the struggle to be over. Board exams and multiple choice questions. A huge milestone. Engineering vs Medicine. Am I in the right coaching centre? I wanted to reclaim my summer vacations. I was almost eighteen. I couldn’t wait to be in college. I wanted to be twenty-one. Older, independent.

When I was in college, I couldn’t wait till I had a job. Money, independence. I didn’t want to sit through the lectures. Scoring marks that didn’t make a difference. I wanted to find a job. I would be an adult. I couldn’t wait to be twenty-five. Older, independent.

Once I had a job, I couldn’t wait till I had a place of my own. I didn’t want to deal with roommates and shared apartments. I wanted to have the entire apartment to myself, cook my own food, do my own groceries, pick my furniture. I just wanted to be independent. I wanted to be twenty-eight.

At each stage in my life, I couldn’t wait to move to the next stage.

In a month, I turn thirty.

But this time, I want to wait.

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