7th grade, I took my first trip without my parents. My school had offered a trip to Washington D.C., and they of course, welcomed parents to come. I, however, did not. I was very adamant about my family not coming with me. I'd had way too much experience with the "fun family vacations" that always included the fundamental ingredients of my dad asking a random stranger for directions only to find out we've been driving for 30 minutes in the wrong direction, my mom making me go to the bathroom every time the car stops because "you won't have another chance for a long time", and my brother being the most annoying little piece of...Anyways, like I said, I had decided I was going on this trip alone.

In Washington D.C., we did a lot of things that required a degree of maturity: visiting the Holocaust museum, all the war memorials, and Arlington cemetery where we listened to President Obama's Memorial Day speech. But the most profound moment for me in D.C. was buying a pretzel.

A plain, unsalted, buttered pretzel.

Our group had been walking all day, and some people wanted ice-cream, so we'd all gone into an ice cream parlor. one of my friends and I hadn't wanted ice cream, but we saw a pretzel stand outside. We snuck out and bought a pretzel. The pretzel was actually pretty bad, really dry, and I didn't even finish it all. But buying that pretzel was the 1st time in my brief 11 years of life that I felt like an adult. I felt like Mom. And it was the greatest feeling in the world.

Since coming back, I've been alone many times. I've also grown a bit maturity-wise. just last summer, I attended a short 3-day program at my state college, where I slept there overnight. My mom had told me before I left to call her that night. I got there, and met so many like-minded people and we spent late night hours talking about life and deep stuff. And I didn't call Mom. When I got back, we had a big fight. She said I was ungrateful. That I'd taken everything she and Dad had done for granted and felt independent and didn't need them anymore.

She started crying. I slammed the door and I started crying.

Not because she was wrong and I was misunderstood, but because she was right.

Throughout childhood, parents are always there, so we take everything they do for granted. It makes it so that when we get a twinge of "adulthood", like being alone buying a pretzel or trying on Mom's heels, we romanticize it. It makes us feel big and powerful and independent.

I think, parents never want to let go of their kids. So kids let go first. Everyone reaches that age where you're too old to cuddle when it thunders, too cool to hug when dropped off at school. Friends start taking precedent and parents don't understand you anymore.

After the 3-day program at my state school, I went to a two week summer program at Yale, a bit longer and bit farther away. And I called home more. It's not so much that I missed my parents more, but small things that happen—when I realize google maps isn't set up right on my phone because I'd always used Mom's phone for that, when the drunk homeless person staggers nearby where Dad would have shielded me—little moments of adulthood that didn't make me feel so big and powerful, that illuminated everything I'd taken for granted before.

After my brother and I entered high school, we started going on less and less family vacations. And I reminiscent of the annoying car rides and petty arguments. My brother is leaving for college soon, and I'll be going soon too. Growing up isn't the giddy feeling we get when we order food alone as a kid. It isn't running through streets free and unrestrained. It won't always be the greatest feeling in the world that makes us feel big and powerful. It also isn't the dreadful tax-filled drudgery of dystopian novels. It's a transition through life. Growing up, leaving our childhood behind, letting go of our parents, isn't necessarily a bad thing. But it takes hindsight to appreciate the phrase of life we're transitioning from. i only wish I'd known earlier. I don't have to enjoy it, but I do cherish the nagging from my parents and the irrational insults from my brother now, because I know it won't last forever. And I might not miss it, but I'll reminisce.