I don’t really know what I’d consider “old.” I’m nineteen; my parents are thirty-eight and thirty-nine; my dad’s parents were in their late fifties when they passed away; my mom’s parents are in their fifties and sixties, respectively. I consider none of those ages old. There are some times, though, that I feel old–take last Friday, for instance. My seventeen-year-old sister graduated from high school.
My sister and I are exactly twenty-one months apart; she has always been only one grade below me, yet I feel so much older than her at times. When I watched her accept her diploma the other night, I had flashbacks to when I was doing the same thing–that was only a year ago. So many of my friends are saying, “It feels like it was just yesterday,” but to me, it feels like it was years ago.
I graduated high school in May 2007, but I was done with high school long before that. Well, it felt that way. My senior year only consisted of going to class until noon (I only had four classes that year), and then I’d go to my full-time job from about one to nine. High school has nearly diminished from my life, and I even stopped “hanging out” with high school friends. My English teacher once told us that seniors tended to do that because it made the initial leaving part much easier. J had graduated two years before I, so we didn’t even talk about school often. I was done with high school.
After my sister’s graduation the other night, she went to her boyfriend’s house for a grad party and to play Guitar Hero 2. I was sad. She was having fun, and I was being selfish because she wasn’t coming home to celebrate with her family. After my graduation, I hung out with my family, not friends. I didn’t really have friends anymore. She had friends, still. She was still in high school. I grew up too fast, while my sister was holding on to what childhood she had left. I felt completely disappointed at J and I drove back to my parent’s house to visit. I confided in him how I felt; I feel like I let my childhood leave me. I’m now stuck in this world of jobs and bills. At least, I feel that way.
I’m glad I’m not a kid anymore, though I miss it at times; I know I’m still young, and I have a lot more life to live. I just want to keep reminding my siblings to live in their childhood as long as possible. Once it’s gone, it’s nearly impossible to get back.
Our wedding is exactly five weeks from today, and the cold feet has somewhat diminished, though I’m still nervous. We’ve been doing a lot lately with planning. From tuxes to flowers (red roses with white stephanotis) to booking our honeymoon (at a bed & breakfast in Asheville, North Carolina) to final dress alterations. The details of wedding planning have been never-ending, but I know it will all be worth it.
Among all of the planning, we’ve had to participate in some pre-marriage counseling led by the preacher that will be marrying us. We’ve had two meetings thus far (and we only have one more to go), but apparently the preacher is very positive about our coming marriage. At our second meeting, we were going over some marriage goals that each of us have, and luckily, our goals are very similar, and I think that made our preacher very excited to be marrying us.
At the end of our meeting, he brought up some physical goals and intimacy. Josh went on to tell him that we are both virgins, never having sex with each other nor anyone before us. Usually, people become incredibly shocked by this fact, and this time was no different; however, he applauded us. I’m nineteen and J is twenty-one, so I guess being virgins at our age is very hard to come by. The biggest shock of all: we live together. We’ve lived together since last August. People who know us say “how do you not?” Honestly, I think it’s just because we never have before in the past. Though it’s not easy not to at times, we still don’t. We’re waiting until we’re married. It was never really a choice we made due to religion; it was just a personal choice. We knew that if we waited, we’d be rewarded in the end. We’re both incredibly proud of it all.
As I was lying awake, I had a moment. I needed to write.
Sometimes I wonder (to myself) why I push myself to grow up so quickly? I’m nineteen-years-old, and I don’t know what it is–cold feet, perhaps?–but I am overwhelmed with the realization that my wedding is in less than seven weeks. That’s forty-five days now. Since it’s now May, that makes my wedding… Next month! Whoa. I had to step back and think about that one more time. Next month? Yeah, next month. It’s a scary–no, terrifying–thought. Though people have been continuously asking if I’m nervous yet, the fact that the wedding was getting really close didn’t hit me. I kept asking myself, am I supposed to be nervous? I had no idea what I was really supposed to get nervous about. I was excited, yes, and maybe a little stressed, but “nervous” was an emotion I had yet to come in contact with. Until now, that is. Now, I feel this overwhelming feeling of nervousness. I’m not sure exactly why I’m nervous, but I know I am.
I just graduated high school a year ago, and I’m only a first-year college student. I have no idea what I want to do career-wise. I know I’m young, but I feel mature enough to take this huge step in my life. I may not know a lot, but I do know that I want to be with J for the rest of my life, and I want him there to help me make all the important decisions to come.
I just become afraid sometimes.
(a part of a look at the past)
The other night, I talked with you; reminding you of times in the past. Laying in your dark room, music playing softly in the background along with the fan outside your closed door. The only light came from the clock on your wall. My curfew was 11:30, but sometimes I’d stay a little later, laying in your arms. I remember the smell of your cologne–Drakkar. I love and miss the smell; you don’t wear it anymore. I especially remember the nights you professed your love for me; hours would pass, and you would continue to tell me just how much you cared as you held my hand.
I reminded you of these moments in our lives. Sometimes now, we sleep with the fan on in the background, reliving those nights of being home at 11:30. They replay countless times in my head, and sometimes, I can still smell your cologne.
Today, I no longer have to be home at 11:30 because our home is together; in less than fifty days, we’ll be husband and wife. It all seems so surreal.
