Moving Up

There's something special about the age, 18. It rolls off the tongue with a certain smoothness that either inspires or frightens the person that hears it. But after all, 18 is the year of adulthood, or so it seems. My birthday has now come and gone and I feel no older, even less so, more responsible. But for now, I'll just enjoy the fun I have left from my youth. And the birthday presents.