“Once you become an adult, you’re kicked out of the house until you find your soulmate.”
The day you became an adult should have been a momentous occasion, but it was also the day you were forced to leave home; no sooner had you tossed your cap into the air than your parents had tossed to you to the curb, armed with a duffel of your belongings on your back and whatever savings you had in your bank account. This was it, the beginning of your coming-of-age journey, the biggest adventure of your youth. It was a journey to find love in the form of your soulmate.
At least, that’s what your parents told you as they helped you pack your things. Their eyes told you they meant it, but the sincerity somehow stung more than any animosity could have.
You wandered around town in a daze for a while, wondering if you should turn back, beg your parents to take you back in at least until you got a job… No. You straightened up, steeled your resolve; you’re an adult, and if they want you to prove it by finding your soulmate, then you’re sure as hell not going to give them reason to believe you’re giving up.
Six months later you’re working in a coffee shop several towns over, subletting apartments on the cheap while local students are away. It’s not a permanent situation, but it’s better than living on the streets. The regulars who frequent the cafe become acquaintances of yours, and you begin to find yourself enjoying the job. You figure it’s only until you find love as is expected of you, anyway, and then you can return home with your dignity in tact.
Facing that fact hits you hard at first, and you find yourself contemplating again whether it’s better to keep struggling forward or return home with your tail between your legs. The former isn’t making you happy; the latter will likely make you the laughing stock of your family.
It’s in the middle of this crisis that you stumble across a used car lot, and in the farest corner you spot an old van with a worn-out pop-top, and before you know what hit you, you march your way to the owner and pay for it, in cash. It’s rusty and guzzles gas like a monster but it’s yours, every inch of it.
So you quit your job and hit the road.
You don’t know what drives you to do it. Maybe it’s the need to prove yourself, maybe it’s a drive for adventure, maybe it’s something else; regardless, you keep driving until the journey puts miles between you and your parents’ expectations. You do not find your soulmate, but you fall in love with the open road, the wind in your hair, the feeling of freedom.
The first time you see the stars away from the lights of suburbia, you’re taken aback. They dot the sky like thousands of distant, brilliant fireflies, on a scale you could only have dreamed of until now. You wonder, staring up at them from your tiny piece of the universe, whether any of them host any other worlds, and whether any of those are home to someone just like you. You think of the people that do not own your destiny. And somewhere, in the middle of this cautionary-tale-turned-coming-of-age-story, somewhere among the stars, you don’t find your soulmate, but you find yourself. And that’s enough.
