Nineteen is a tough age to be.
It's not as tough as being twelve or thirteen. Those years were rough--you're transitioning into your teenage years. You're not sure what's expected of you. Part of you still wants to be a kid, most of you doesn't, but all of you is rather frightened of what's happening in your life. You have more responsibilities as you go into high school. I got my first phone and was finally allowed to stay home alone for extended periods of time.
But as tough as being a teenager was, being an adult is a lot harder.
Taxes. Laundry. Dishes. Housecleaning. Meal planning. Managing finances. Going to college or having a job or both. Not to mention the social aspect. Having friends as a teenager was tough enough. But having friends as a young adult? My college friends live at least forty-five minutes away, and not all of my church friends have their driver's licenses yet.
And then, of course, you've got the whole family situation.
At the moment, my aunt and uncle are in town from Chicago, and we're hosting a dinner party in their honor. Now, don't get me wrong, they're great people and I'm glad they're here. In fact, the majority of my family is pretty cool. But the majority of my family is also in their sixties, which narrows the topics of conversation around the dinner table to health problems, politics, and home remodeling.
I smile. I nod. My dad brings up Trump's response to the Coronavirus and complains about the governor of New York for the third time. I start to tune out. But no. I'm an adult now. I'm supposed to care about politics. I might crack a joke or make a snarky comment, but for the most part, I'm quiet. Eating my dinner roll. Listening.
We get some news about another relative. That's a welcome change of subject. But it doesn't last long. The topic of conversation shifts to the natural doctor most of my family sees and all the supplements he prescribes. I'm an adult. I can't excuse myself and run upstairs and play computer games no matter how much I want to. Can I bring my knitting downstairs? Is that socially acceptable?
Of course, if I'm lucky, we'll run out of seats in the good dining room, and I'll be shipped off to the eat-in kitchen. It might just be me and my little sister. We might be joined by a few younger cousins, if their dad decides to bring them. That wouldn't be too bad, actually. I'd rather talk about dogs and online schooling and little league than hydroxychloroquine and sump pumps and crown molding.
Well, enough complaining. I'll buck up and do what's expected of me. Sit and visit like a normal adult, chat and crack jokes and whatnot. It's a growing experience. Next time will be easier, hopefully. If I'm lucky.
If you have any advice for making conversation, please leave it in the comment section below! God bless you, dear readers, and don't forget to review us on Amazon!
M. J. Piazza is a Jesus-loving, dog-walking country girl who just so happens to write books.