Adulting

Lights, camera, action

Part-time jobs and full time classes

The cheap apartments

Shared by three or more

Shabby sofas, drafty windows

Stuffed with yesterday’s news

But nobody noticed or nobody cared

When we were young

And full of exuberance

Dancing, spinning

Performing for each other

In our too cool, thrift store clothes

Saved our cash for the hair salon

And army surplus boots

Looking for the next thrill

In late nights and lazy mornings

Each one a version of the other

Playing on repeat

Running around in circles

Like the records on the turntable

Everyone’s a player

And the beat goes on

A mass of undulating bodies

Like a murmuration of starlings

Moving almost as one

It’s joy of life unbounded

Until the break of dawn

But youth is nimble and fleet footed

And time is cruel but fair

Shows no pity for the partygoers

Burning the candle at both ends

As the house lights come up

Show those tiny lines and wrinkles

It’s last call once and for all

Grow up baby, morning’s here…

*Galway is a city full of students, just beginning their journeys, finding their way. They’re so full of life and free of care … at least on the surface. Oh, to be young again without the burdens and responsibilities that adulthood places upon us. Carpe diem! Seize the day! The time goes quickly and you never get it back.

The Commuter

A short story by Meg Sorick.

There were five of them in the car as far as I could tell. Three squished in the back seat and two up front. I could hear the music blasting through the open windows. They all were singing along. Only teenagers could be that happy stuck in rush hour traffic. Lucky dogs.

We inched forward a little and I thought back to the summer between my junior and senior year of college. I had two jobs —both part time, both of them waitressing gigs— but it hadn’t prevented me from going out every night of the week. All my friends were doing the same kind of thing —working our summer jobs, sharing cheap apartments, surviving on Ramen noodles and thrift store clothes, so we had beer money instead. It might possibly have been the happiest time of my life.

In the car in front of me, the song changed and the kids sang louder. The old Chevy positively shook as they danced in their seats. I sighed. Where had the years gone?

Finally, thirty minutes later, the log jam broke and traffic started moving. I changed lanes and passed the concert on wheels. Stealing a glance over, I saw a snapshot of the past. Five carefree souls not worrying about a thing. Just you wait, my little darlings. Life is about to smack you in the face. Student loans, credit scores, mortgages, car payments, insurance, utilities, taxes…

I pulled in the driveway an hour and fifteen minutes after I left work. This commute was killing me. As I dropped my keys on the hall table and kicked off my shoes, I smelled the scent of tomatoes and garlic wafting from the kitchen. I followed my nose. My husband looked up from the stove when I entered. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “Kiss the cook?”

I kissed him, but I was distracted by the scene on the television in the corner. The news was on.

“Accident on the Schuylkill. Quite a mess,” my husband said.

The scene on TV was shot from a circling news helicopter. A crash. Two exits before mine.

“Lucky you were past it already,” he said. “Or you’d have been even later.”

I recognized the old Chevy. Life is about to smack you in the face…

(Header image thanks to Philly.com)

Twenty One

Her blue black hair curves to the line of her chin

A stark contrast to a pair of bright blue eyes

She is tall and willowy, only accentuated

By black tights and a short skirt

She reads Kafka and pretends to enjoy it

Writes overbearing poetry with bloated metaphors

It is 1987 and she is 21 years old

The age of majority

But young enough that everything

Seems as serious as a heart attack