It doesn’t take much, just a glimmer in the corner of your eye, something that makes you pause. Makes you turn. Makes you consider: what if?
You are already an adult when this first happens to you.
When most children your age were off playing make believe, pretending to be superheroes or magicians or spies, you were content with staying inside. You learned how to read from the out of date magazines on the table of you mother’s nail salon, colors for you had letters and numbers. You grew up knowing better than to ask for the latest toy in the market, not when you were so keenly aware of how much (or how little) the salon made every month.
As you get older, you try your best. You help out where you can, sweep up hair and crunch the numbers and–when technology allows for it–boost the online presence of the salon, small though it may be. You run the accounts, try to give it an overhaul, but still the salon struggles.
You graduate and think: you don’t want it.
Ungrateful as it may seem, you don’t want the salon. It’s not your dream–hell, you’re not even sure if it was your mother’s dream, either–but it’s not something you want to take over. It’s your home, yes, and part of you will always love it, will always be nostalgic for tiles and walls and soothing nature sounds on loop, but you don’t want your future to be tied down to this. You don’t want to live and die here, chained to this anchor of a business that has always grounded you.
You are an adult and for the first time in your life you want to be something–someone–else.
You are an adult when, out of the corner of your eye, like a coin sparkling in the sun, you see a different path for yourself.