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Mt Holyoke | Life

I’m 20 Now, I Guess

Manuela Queiroz Ribas Student Contributor, Mount Holyoke College
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Mt Holyoke chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

On March 16th, 2004, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, my mother was so heavily pregnant you wouldn’t believe it. I was a really big, healthy baby with a due date of late March. My mom was enjoying her evening with my father when she felt a weird, watery sensation on the couch. It was 8:32 PM, her water had broken, and I was on my way. After a quick, painless labor, I was born, all bloodied and crying, at 11:48 PM local time. In the room, stood my father and my grandmother, who lifted me up and showed me around the room of doctors: “This is Manuela. This is our family’s first-born grandchild, our first girl.” Even from birth, I was a fan of grand entrances.

Things are very different now that I’m 20, I guess. 20 feels like a weird age to be. I feel so old, but I know I’m so young. Everyone tells me my life has just begun, but why do I feel like I have no time left? I want to do everything and go everywhere, but at the same time, I just want to do nothing and stay in Western Massachusetts lazing around. How am I supposed to be an adult now? 

The people who can help me answer that question are so, so far away. How do we deal with goodbyes? One day, I was literally inside my mother, and now we are 1,436 miles away from each other. How does that work? How is it fair that one day I won’t have her anymore? My 20th birthday was the first time I had a birthday without my family, choosing to stay in South Hadley. Even though I had a wonderful day full of fun, that was the weirdest sensation in the world. I’m supposed to just do birthdays in small groups? I was raised with at least 5 people in the house at all times. How am I supposed to live with two, including me?

This birthday also got me thinking about death a lot. It was near the one-year anniversary of my grandmother’s death (yes, the one in the room when I was born), and not having her call me felt so unnatural. How am I supposed to deal with that for the rest of my life? No more calls from Grandma complaining about Grandpa? How is that fair? You’re telling me one day I will get no calls because everyone will be gone? I don’t understand how I’m supposed to live with that. I don’t understand how anyone does.

Life truly isn’t fair. I miss being a kid when my one concern was whether people would make fun of my Cinderella backpack. I guess I’m going through my ⅕ life crisis.

hello! class of 2026, neuroscience major, nice to meet you! some stuff I love is my family, my friends, studying, learning, meeting people, talking, reading, writing, eating, traveling, trains, public transportation, road trips, nature, crossing borders, my homeland of Brazil, being a Posse scholar, Williston Library, being at Mount Holyoke, working... but most of all, I love the world. I love love. and I love you!
ps - i write a lot about the past. that means i'm over it <3 u get the gist!