(In)dependence

So I have completed week one of completely being on my own. It is nice, I won't negate the pleasure I found in it last week. But I have learned some things in the last seven days. For example, living alone really stinks when you take a nasty spill in the parking lot in the middle of the night... and bleed for the rest of it. And then seriously consider calling your parents and asking them to get out of bed to take you to the emergency room. This is something that can never be a proud moment for someone on the downward slide to 30. I know that when I was younger, my parents' biggest fear was that they would get a call in the middle of the night saying I was hurt and/or needed to go to the hospital. The call never came, but one time I told them I needed to go... long story. But somehow, the playing field has leveled and now I worry the same thing about them. Isn't it weird how things like that come full circle? I can hope they stop worrying about me as the years pass, but somehow, I doubt it.

In addition to becoming intimately acquinted with the concrete, there were other, much more minor things that made me (almost... a very BIG almost mind you) regret my independence this week. How about when you have a large load of groceries, etc. and you have to carry them in on your own? ... Oh wait, I did that where I lived before, nevermind ;) But the example stands. Struggling up a set of stairs with bags and keys, all a jumble.

But considering I struggled like crazy with the things listed above... as well as a few others... this week, I have to ask myself... Will I learn to adapt to these types of situations, or is "true" idenpendence a fallacy? I can kill a spider on my own, no problems. But life sometimes hits us hard (many times in the knee) and I have to ask... Do we all need at least one person who can be there for us at any given time?

~Wildflower