Grow up.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard that. I’m turning 24 in less than two months, and by the standards of the place where I live (or at least the elderly people who know me), I’m supposed to have already settled down with a good husband and gave birth to a kid or two. I’m supposed to know how to cook and clean and pay the bills. I’m supposed to know how to interact properly in all situations, and woe betide me if I forget what to say at a funeral or a wedding. I’m supposed to be a gr...