This Saturday Afternoon Is All Mine


It's Saturday afternoon.

My boyfriend drops me off in the alley behind our apartment before he rushes to work. As I get out of the car, I hear the family East of us talking in Cambodian. I smile at them. I walk a few more steps until I'm on Raymond Ave and it's silent again. I hear nothing but distant sirens and birds. As I get closer to the front house, I hear the kids from downstairs running around on their scooters. While I've never shared anything but a smirk with them, their annoying-yet-adorable laughter feels like home to me.

I see my mailbox has a few letters in it. Usually all I get is junk mail, with a bunch of coupons and ads for places I can't eat. But today, it looked like I got "real" mail. I grab it out of the black box and begin to make my way to my apartment.

I walk up the faded baby blue stairs, riddled with chipping paint and dust, while holding a paper bag filled with groceries in one hand and my keys in the other. A baguette and various greens are sticking out the top, just like the movies. For a moment or so, I feel like I'm in an Anne Hathaway film.

I'm inside now. The living room smells like maple butter thanks to the candle we burned throughout the night and oh my gosh, it's heavenly. I hang my keys up on the hook, kick off my black flats, and put my sunglasses and mail on the nearby counter. Shortly after putting my groceries away, I sit on the couch with a day filled with possibility in front of me. My life is mine.

I mean, it's always been mine, but it's in these moments that I feel like an adult. Those occurrences are so therapeutic to me. They're mundane, daft, and something I do often, but it reminds me that I'm alive; that I've survived for this long.

Don't get this confused with "growing up," but it's always been a dream of mine to be an adult. I've always wanted a real job, my own apartment, my own relationship, and of course...my own life. While I'm not a fan of "growing up," I am a fan of creating a life for yourself. When I was a little one, I used to pretend my room was a studio apartment. No joke. I would put on a fancy robe, put capri sun in a wine glass, and act grown.

I've always craved complete independence and now that I have it, I feel unstoppable. Sure, it's rewarding to do big girl work, pay your own bills, and be able to hold it together (to an extent). But it's unbelievably freeing to be able to do whatever the hell you want everyday because no parent, teacher, or authority figure is watching your every move. I don't need to ask for permission to eat a cookie from the cookie jar nor do I need to put my TV on mute so I don't get caught playing video games at 2 AM. I don't need to hide my phone under my desk nor do I need to ask to go to the bathroom.

Isn't that what we all dreamed of as kids?! Freedom? Otherwise known as the ability to do whatever the fuck you want?!

Happy Saturday everyone. I'll be enjoying mine from the couch. I'm pantless because I don't have to cover myself up for anyone's comfort. I have no makeup on so I can rub my eyes all I want. I'm probably going to make italian wedding soup because I've been craving it. And I might just play Overwatch all night long because it's what makes me happy and well...I can.

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