<p>In the script of my childhood, the most prominent finale would surely be the untimely end of my backyard tree house. Or, at least that would be the one chosen for me. I was forced to sit and watch as the last shred of my childhood was torn down to create, ironically, such wooden tools for manly labor.
As a seventeen year old on the brink of independence, I was initially surprised at the sheer amount of times when I am supposed to be reaching official adulthood. Jewish culture proclaims a young man as an adult at 13, but my familys never let my moms religion permeate into my life at all. 13 came and passed, and I still felt like I fit the role of a child. I was able to see mature movies by myself, but that was as far as the newfound maturity of my early teens seemed to go.
The question seemed to persist, towards future thoughts. Am I granted adulthood when I turn 18, and can legally gamble and smoke my life away? Is it at 21 instead, when nearly all of lifes inherent freedoms are presented to me for the taking? Perhaps it is defined by tangibles. When I got my first job and paid for some things by myself, I felt like I finally was reaching a level of independence and adulthood that would not come at arbitrary dates and deadlines. Maybe it was supposed to occur when I literally grew up, taller than my mother, father, and finally my brother. Was I an adult then? This question plagued me for years. As I approached these deadlines every day, I was crippled with the dread of losing my childhood, which I had cherished for so many years. When would I be put out of my misery?
Yet, as I have now realized while looking at the place where my tree house once sat untouched, its an unnecessary question. The experience has shown me that embracing adulthood is a conscience decision that I need to make if I want to be regarded as mature. I have spent a lot of time about losing my childhood, when my focus should be on gaining my adulthood. My tree house was really nothing more than a symbol, and as I watched it come down, piece by piece, I realized that it was not sad, but just a rite of passage that I was experiencing. I have never felt like more of an adult than I did at that moment, despite all of the times throughout my first seventeen years of life when I was supposed to transition. This experience has taken away my place to climb, to read, and to play, but it has given me a basis upon which to begin the new chapter of my life. Facing the inevitable, I exercised the only option available to me at the time; I went and helped.</p>
<p>a word of advice, dont post your essay on a thread.</p>
<p>The first sentence is fun, but there are some grammar issues. Here’s a slightly revised version:</p>
<p>The final scene in the script of my childhood would have been the untimely (demolition? not end.) of my tree house.</p>
<p>In the script of my childhood, the most prominent finale would surely be the untimely end of my backyard tree house.</p>