Where are we going?

Here I am. A badly taken photo of the best moment of my day. Here I am. In the back seat of taxi, an open window, slipping through the chicago summer night. It is moments like these, alone, at night, often in taxis, head out the window - probably because I, like the rest of my generation, have come to value moments based on the degree to which they resemble sentimental movie tropes (he drives away, turning back to look one last time, through the taxi's rear window, at the girl, at the life he is leaving behind. Coldplay, in the background, steadily building to a crescendo. Close-up on airplane tickets in hand. Cue solitary tear running down cheek. Fade to black.) - that I really appreciate youth.

21 has brought with it more than I expected. Sure, there is the ability to go to bars - a chance to hit up Wriggleyville, trying not spill your drink while dodging in-between balding 30-something "let-me-tell-you-how-much-I-make" men (all wearing the same striped clubbing shirt from H&M or Express for men) and women who are way too old to dress like sorority girls who,amids grinding with each other, yell into each other's ears "Oh my god. I love Kanye!!" Oh yes, 21 has brought much more than this, riveting as it is.

With 21 has come a real sense of "I am a person now." My identity feels like more than "my parents child." You know what I mean? All of a sudden home, as wonderful as it is, feels a little awkward - like some jeans that after so many washes get a little too tight in the crotch. And you are left saying to "yourself, how did this happen? Can I still wear these? I will. And now my balls are hurting. Maybe I'll just unzip the top and wear a belt. Ah...my balls..."
You think to yourself, "damn I am technically an adult now. why am I still borrowing money and not cooking my own dinner?"

And with it, comes an incredible excitement - a feeling that sleeps somewhere in the bottom of your stomach and bubbles up at odd moments. In cars at night on highways. On trains at 8:50am as you find yourself lost in mass of starbucks-sipping, Motorolla RAZR wielding working folks (cyborgs, I believe).

I have a life.
This is MY life.
And I get to shape it how I want.
(The man with the comb-over sitting next to you looks over, thinking you are reciting to yourself your own personal lets-get ready-for-the-day pumpup mantra and nods in recognition - he has a mantra too).

What am I going to be? Not, just my job, but what kind of man am I going to be? What is to become of all this - of all this preparation? When am I going to fall in love? Maybe she is the one sitting 2 seats down, by the window, lost in a book... When is this life going to begin?

What a crazy time this is. Total potential. Total unknown. Like that moment before ski racers explode out of the starting gate. Muscles tensed. The camera pans slowly to show a single bead of sweat dripping from the brow.

At times I am so overcome by this feeling, that I just begin chuckling to myself.
(And the man with the comb-over sitting next to me looks over, thinking that I am losing my mind, nods in recognition and gives a mysterious little wink signaling 'I too am crazy..shhh...')

My dad reminds me how short youth is. He tells me that he was too worried about getting to the next thing, about becoming a Grown Up that he missed a lot of what youth is supposed to be about. "Its about the journey, ceej," he says to me. "Don't get impatient. Don't focus so narrowly on the destination that you lose sight of the scenery that is careening past the window."

As I climb the stairs to my room, he is calling after me, in a half-whisper as not to wake my sleeping brother "Drink it in." Like a delicious thing you taste, take it in your mouth, savor it, and shut down all other senses - divert the rest of the energy in your body to focusing on that taste - pull everything you can from it. Because soon it will be gone.

"Savor it"

The words stay in my head.

This badly taken photo is of us - hurtling through the night towards whatever we will become. Towards everything we have planned for. Towards everything we haven't. Me, with my elbow hanging half-out of the open window. Eyes closed, mouth agape - trying to taste the summer night. Heavy and sweet. Holding it on the back of my tongue, as we slip quietly along, beneath the orange fluorescent street lamps and the towering shadows of a glittering chicago skyline.