Do I have to file taxes?  Will I be called to to jury duty? What if I get arrested?  Oh my god, what if I’m drafted into the military?  These are just some of the thoughts that kept me awake on the night leading into my eighteenth birthday.  As I laid in bed, I watched my alarm clock turn from 11:59 to 12:00, and my status of minor disappeared. For eighteen years, I lived a blissful, worry-free existence, and all it took was one minute to change that.  The legal duties of adulthood had become my duties and they freaked me out. It wasn’t just the responsibilities that were getting to me, it was the importance of them. I couldn’t stop thinking about how my position on a jury could change someone’s life or how my vote could change the course of history.  I couldn’t understand how anyone could handle the pressures of being an adult.

The Tuesday following my birthday, I went to a friends house after school.  We were having a 90’s movie marathon with a spread of snacks that could make Rachel Ray jealous.  We had just started Clueless when my phone rang.  It was my mom. I answered and she told me she was outside.  “It’s 6 o’clock”, I said, “Could I stay a little longer please?”.  My plea was rejected and the movie night cut short. The whole car ride home, I thought about what that phone call meant.  Legally, I was an adult. I could do what I wanted. I could stay out as late as I wanted, move away from home, or buy a gun.  The law allowed me to do all of those things, but that phone call made me realize it doesn’t matter what the law says I can do if my mother says I can’t.  So not only did I have to assume the responsibilities of being an adult, I still had to deal with the inconveniences of being a minor. Eighteen had shown itself to be a limbo between adolescence and adulthood.

A week after my birthday, I celebrated with my friends.  Being the first in my group to hit this milestone, I was surrounded by five girls who were too young to understand that these years were not a blessing, but a disappointment.  They were so excited to see me in action being a legal adult that they picked me up from home and we drove to the nearest 7 Eleven. We entered the store and the girls made themselves busy, pretending to examine the Slurpee machine, while I got in line to make my first transaction as a legal adult.  The longest 3 minutes I’ve ever experienced were in that line. All of the thoughts racing around my mind made my palms sweat. How can I do this if I can’t even stay out past 6:00?  This cashier’s going to take one look at me and know that my age doesn’t matter, I’m still a child.  The lottery tickets aren’t for girls in limbo.  

I reached the counter and asked for a Mega Millions ticket in a voice so quiet the cashier had to ask me to repeat myself.  When I finally spoke loud enough for him to hear, he asked for my ID. For some reason, this request caught me off guard. I had never bought anything that required my verification of my age before.  I took my learners permit out of my wallet, handed it to the gentleman, and braced myself for his rejection. “You can’t even drive, do you really think you enter the lottery?”, he would say, then rip my permit to pieces and ban me from all 7 Elevens for life, sentencing me to a painful, Slurpee free existence.  The cashier did none of those things. He just handed me back my ID and with it a freshly printed lotto ticket.

Back in the car, my friends passed around the ticket.  The each took a turn to examine it and be impressed by my lawful possession of that slip of paper.  While they tried to convince me to share the prize with them if I won, my mind was on my learner’s permit.  A piece of plastic, that was worthless the week before, had unlocked the best part of adulthood. Holding it between my fingers, I felt its power and needed to use it again, so our next stop was the tattoo parlor.  When we arrived, I walked up to the receptionist, entourage behind me and ID in hand. I told him I wanted to get a piercing and couldn’t help but smile when I handed him my ID. He sent me alone to a backroom where a young woman put a new hole in my ear, without my mother’s permission.  

After a week of stressing over the limbo that is eighteen, I finally found the bright side of being legal.  I didn’t win the lottery, but purchasing that ticket gave me a new confidence. I had something concrete to show for my growing up and it gave me hope that good things would come from my current situation.  I’m still coping with my new responsibilities and still have to be home when my mother says, but I’m enjoying the perks of eighteen while I figure out adulthood.