The magic milestone beckoning young adults who are not yet cynics about watery, dingy, obnoxious bars.
My Adored stepson turned 21 today, and he assured me, “I’m not that stupid” when I implored him not to celebrate with 21 shots.
This, if nothing else, is the barrier one crosses into adulthood. When decisions matter. When no one else is in charge.
When I was 21, I was working on getting my bachelor’s degree, which I eventually landed even though it took five years because I accepted a chance to edit the student newspaper. Living in a town I would someday return to, I missed it so much, and then began to loathe. Dating a man who would ultimately become my first husband. Some decisions better than others. But mine. Mine alone.
Stepson faces decisions of similar gravity now. Right now. He’s 21.
Here’s to you, Stepson. May your drinks and your decisions taste sweet.