Part of the Time

I used to think everyone who worked full-time, was married, and had kids gave up on their dreams. Believed firmly that the borders of fun were defended by an invisible fence that kept the pesky dog of adulthood at bay. Was sure I'd never trade my free time for financial stability. But now the nebulous shadows of my dreams loom long over my bleeding savings account.

It wasn't that long ago I was certain I'd be playing my bass and staying up until 3AM every night with my childhood friends. Now they all live on opposite sides of the country. As the years drone on, like Christmas ornaments in January, they're packed and won't be seen again until next year. Our endless summers and ocean of days off dwindle to a thin puddle.

Suddenly you're eating lunch alone at Chipotle, lamenting not having anyone to split your guac with. For the first time, there are too many hours in the day. What once was a schedule overflowing with possibility, is now barren.

Adulthood poaches the rare and priceless animals from your life. It buries your equilibrium. I believe in free time. And spending massive amounts of it with the people I love, doing the things I love. But that isn't enough. You need two to play tennis. And while I am infinitely grateful for the time I've spent with my friends, my father warned me this day would come. Thanks to him I drank long and hard from the keg of friendship, danced with lady revelry, and prolonged the inevitable for longer than most. But I can feel my foothold starting to give. Doubt. It may well be time to secure a future and build something of my own. At least it will keep my hands busy.