I mean, I know it took long enough. But now I’m 33½ and have two young children of my own, I think it is time to call myself an adult. It didn’t happen when I turned 18, or 21 or when I got married. And it didn’t even happen when I became a mother.
As I think back to Christ-mases past, I recall the excitement and the anticipation of the guy coming down a chimney that we did not have. My Mom always told me that Daddy was going to get up and let Santa Claus in the front door by the tree.
At times, I find myself being somewhat ungrateful for things and people who surround me. A few days ago, in my eyes, was just a normal day until I looked at the date. Twenty-five years ago on Nov. 9, 1989, the Berlin Wall was to be no more.
I am having trouble coming up with a topic to write about for this column. I mean, it’s not like my wild children don’t give me excellent material, what with all the jumping off the couches and standing on tables and general exuberance that out-exuberances anything I’ve ever seen.