My sense of time is fragmented lately, and I can't decide what age I am. There are a lot of reasons for the confusion. Several of my coworkers play an older brother role in my life, and I am giddy to regress to cute, innocent, elementary school Anna in my relationships with them. Then, Dad is always happy to remind me that my job is beneath my education, experience, and skill level, and it is really only appropriate for teenage Anna working her first job. But when I sit alone in my room late at night, I am acutely aware that I am neither child nor adolescent, that the past several months have thrust me into adulthood. The feeling is both satisfying and surprising. I don't understand how it happened. I kind of wonder why I haven't had a crisis of faith or a psychotic break from reality. When did I develop poise, grace, faith, patience, charity, perspective? When did I grow up?
I'm pretty sure I would still wear the green leggings if I had them. *shrug*