Moving into adulthood

I zip up my bag, sit on my bed and sigh. My alarm suddenly blares. It is deafening in the quiet house. For the first time since April the central air conditioning was not on. Being alone in the quiet house gave me an eery feeling. I knew my parents would be home soon and I was very anxious for them to be. It was the Saturday of the beginning of my Father and I’s trip to Belgium. Without my laptop at hand I took out my phone. I scrolled through emails and pictures from previous, days, weeks and years, there were many fond memories, trips to different countries or cities. Looking at selfies my classmates took when I was in the bathroom or just not paying attention I laughed a little. I was going to miss my friends even though I was going for a short time. Earlier that day I had worried about the amount of storage both on my laptop and phone. It was irrational I had 20 GB’s free on my phone and over 300 GB’s free on my laptop. Still it was not enough for me. I would not be satisfied until I had used no storage which is an impossible goal. It was a new thing for me to get as much done, have as much space or the most organized thing or device I could put together. It was me growing up and becoming more mature, at least that was what my parents would tell me. To me it felt like an OCD. Suddenly I hear the front door open. Leaving my little world I realize my alarm is still blaring right next to me. “Hi Eli!.” My Mom yells up to me, it was just a habit that whenever my Dad, Mom, Brother or myself come home we yell hi. Returning my Mom’s greeting I walk downstairs. 

“When do we leave?” “We can leave in 15 minutes” my Mom responds checking her phone. Sufficient with the answer I scurry upstairs to change. I had planned on wearing a t-shirt and my most comfortable pair of pants. I slip each leg through the soft insides of my joggers and grab a shirt from my closet. As one arm slips through the short sleeve, I stop. This was not the shirt I wanted to wear. I had not put any thought into if I looked good and to be honest I did not care. The shirt was not comfortable. I stomp over to my luggage and unzip the bag. I grab one of my pajama shirts. I slide the shirt over my head and arms slip my backpack onto my back. I head down the wide stairs that cover my house. When I get downstairs I see my Mom and Dad waiting for me. The car engine is already on and and both my bag and my Dad’s are in the trunk. We hop in the car my Mom driving, my Dad in the passenger seat and me sitting alone in the back. The soft roar of the engine matched with the light whispers of my parents are the only things I hear. The ride to airport is short and the wait in the airport a little longer then the car ride. As we walked over to our gate at the airport we saw a long line that seemed to lead to nowhere. Over the loudspeaker erupted a subtle Belgian accent telling everyone in line to go to their seats. “You may sit down we are boarding from the back, starting with seats 45 to 36.” Laughing to myself the line dispersed and so did my Dad and I. Finally the section our seats fell in were called. We got on the plane a melancholic feeling came over me. The small cushioned seats looked unforgiving, knowing I was going to be there for the next eight hours. A few minutes later the plane starts to move, the hum of the engines grew louder and louder and with that I turned up my headphones. After a long and tiresome flight, we landed in Brussels where we took a train to get to Antwerp. We headed for dinner wandering the populated European streets. It was Sunday and my Dad would begin to work the following day. It would be the first time I was in a foreign city by myself. The next day I slept in, not used to being six hours ahead of Philadelphia. After about an hour I headed out of the hotel and began to explore Antwerp. The city was empty, it was midday on a Monday and most people were either at work or school. I walked into stores and looked around at the old looking buildings. It was different from Philadelphia much different. There were no skyscrapers, cars rarely traveled down the bike ridden streets. I later went to dinner with my dad and some of the people from his math conference. Most things that were said at dinner I did not understand. It was not because of the heavy Russian accents but because Math was their passion. I quietly sat through dinner enjoying my food. The following morning, I woke up and my Dad was gone. He had left for the conference leaving me by myself as I knew I would be. I wondered what I would spend my day doing at worried that I would be in the hotel too long distracted my netflix and facebook or whatever things the internet had to offer. I decided to get up and visit a museum. I never liked museums and rarely went to them but after several hours looking at art, sculptures and upholstery I felt more mature and grownup. I spent more time exploring the foreign city and eventually went back to the hotel to do homework. I had become responsible for myself and my work and worked hard to make sure I did not fall behind. Later I would tell my dad my day and getting the response of “wow, you’re growing up!” I have changed since last year and I still continue change. I feel a new sense of maturity and growth that I hope will blossom further and lead me to my adulthood.