Life Back on the Rock

Well, it's been nearly six months since I, Sam, returned to our humble island, and it hasn't been what I expected. Iris and I talk even more than we used to (which was quite a lot to begin with), I got a job somewhere other than retail, and I feel old. I was hoping that when I came home, I'd feel like I was back in high school. Younger, carefree, and working at the bookstore. Well, I'm no longer a teenager, I work as an executive assistant, and I wear pencil skirts, blouses, and heels to work. Every day. I sit at an office, crunch numbers, make coffee, plan events, design and send out e-newsletters, stuff envelopes, and answer phones all day long. Not only do I do this willingly, I actually enjoy it.
Getting the job was pure chance: family had connections. Keeping the job? That was me. It should have been temporary, but now I've had my boss ask me to sign on until I leave for school and, a few months later, ask if I would be willing to put off school or take night classes and continue working for her. I have people call my company, and when I introduce myself they no longer say "Oh I know your father" or "Ohh, I remember your mother! How are you?" and so on and so forth. Instead I get calls like the one I got today.
I was talking to a woman and helping her with a question. She had asked for my predecessor, so I informed her Ms. _____ no longer worked for the company, and that I was her replacement. The woman asked for my full name, and when I told her, she responded "Oh, I know you! You were at the _____ banquet! (which my company held) You were so wonderful! That event was truly amazing, and to believe you've only been with the company for less than a month?" And it went on in that thread until I realized that I was no longer someone's daughter or sister.
I was my own person.
That's great, but until today, I hadn't been old enough to be recognized for myself. Yes, people mentioned my accomplishments, but it was inevitably followed by "Her parents are so proud, you know, Mr. and Mrs. _____" and it got to the point where I had resigned myself to being referred to as my parents' child until the end of time.
Looking in the mirror this evening, I realized there wasn't a 12 year old with too many freckles, teeth that need braces, windblown never brushed hair, and a naive and helplessly happy look in my eyes. Instead I saw someone who's freckles were now mere shadows, straight teeth, perfectly styled hair, and a look of pride and perhaps age in my eyes. Finally, I saw the reality of the person in the mirror.
The truth of the matter is, I like the person I saw in the mirror. Perhaps she's a little less impulsive, a bit less active, a lot more jaded, and a touch more wary, but she is me, and the person I've become. Every moment, every mistake, every smile, laugh, cry, shout, and scream has made me into this person. In a few years time, I will no longer be a crazy college kid, but rather a true adult. Someone with a career and a home of her own. I'm like the child that is dressed in their school uniform for the first time and isn't sure how to act. It feels just like every other thing I've worn, but it has that feeling of importance to it. Like the uniform has made you someone new. And I am. New that is. I am on the road to the rest of my life, whether I'm ready or not.