Adulthood

September 23, 2012

The ring of the telephone shattered my eardrums and destroyed my deep, drunken dreams. It was 11 a.m. but I’d only been sleeping for a few hours, having polished off bottles of red and white Mateus with my boyfriend as the sun came up.

“You're LEGAL,” the voice on the other end hollered. It was 1976 and my older brother Steven was calling to wish me a happy 18^th birthday and congratulate me for reaching what was then the legal drinking age. 

I moaned.

“You’re hungover!” he said, applauding my rite of passage.

For the most part, I wasn’t a drinker or any kind of partier as a teenager, maybe because I had an alcoholic mother, maybe because I felt no need to chemically alter myself, maybe because I was afraid of being even the slightest bit out of control. Whatever the reason, my teenage aversion to partying morphed into an adult naivete about the drinking and partying that most teenagers do long before they hit 18.

Needless to say, I was shocked when I learned that R. —who, at this writing, is on the cusp of turning 18—was drinking during high school and recently went clubbing until just before dawn.

There is little that I can do or say anymore that will dissuade R. from making her ownadult decisions. She can vote, enlist, work, rent an apartment, apply for a credit card and get married, and all I can do is watch and hold my breath. Drinking, of course, is still illegal for her; and yet, aside from withdrawing financial support for her dorm room and holding her under lock and key at home (which would drive both of us mad, in no particular order) there is nothing I can do to stop her.

Fortunately, R. is a wise, thoughtful and responsible young woman. She is mature beyond her years. She makes sound decisions. She’s also a lot happier and self-aware than I was at 18. Sure, clubbing in Hell’s Kitchen until 5 a.m. is a far cry from swigging Mateus on a mountaintop in San Diego. And yet, knowing when to tow the line is what growing up is all about. 

The smartest thing my mother ever did was to let me know that she respected my judgment. I'm sure she worried, as mothers do; but she never let on. Her trust allowed me the thrill and pride of growing into my adult self. It ushered me into adulthood with courage and confidence. It also nurtured my respect and appreciation for her.

I pray for this kind of wisdom; to empower R. with my trust and to give her the room she needs to become the woman she wants to be.