You’ll Understand When You’re Older

I’m becoming more like my parents each day

I don’t know if it’s because I suddenly have more “free time,” or if I’m just more present these days — more aware of everything, including myself — but I’ve started to notice something a bit unsettling: I’m becoming just like my parents.

There wasn’t a singular moment where I thought, “oh, this is it.” It’s more that I catch myself in the act, in these small, specific ways, and think something like, “oh my god, I’m becoming my mother.”

Horrifying, I know. Not unexpected, but still.

It wasn’t one big transformation (for some reason I picture a werewolf — unclear what that says about me or how I view my parents). It’s a collection of preferences, habits, and reactions that I used to question or ignore, and now… they just make sense.

This one was probably always true, but feels especially true now: I dress almost exclusively for function. There’s a joke that everyone in Colorado dresses like they’re always prepared in case a spontaneous hike breaks out, and my environment has likely pushed me further in that direction. Post-Covid fashion hasn’t exactly helped. Comfort wins every time — I can count on one hand how many times I’ve worn “hard pants” since 2020 — which feels like something I used to judge and now can’t imagine arguing with.

And everything is so loud. Places that used to feel normal now feel overstimulating in a way I don’t remember, and I find myself getting irrationally annoyed by background noise that, objectively, is probably fine. And I always find myself extra sensitive to the cold, when it’s supposedly 65 and perfect outside. Maybe this isn’t becoming my parents specifically, but just becoming an old person in general.

I adjust the thermostat to save energy… and money. I’ll turn down the heat and just put on a sweatshirt and a hat. Same with lights. I mean, I do prefer sitting in the dark, but I also like to conserve electricity. Now that I pay my own bills, I understand why my parents scolded us about it.

Every once in a while, something comes out of my mouth and catches me off guard. I’ll ask Kona, “you got out of bed only to lie down on the couch?” which is something I heard constantly as a kid, because I did exactly that while getting ready for school.

“You smell like the sun” is another one. I remember hearing that as a kid and accepting it without question. Now I understand what it means, and I’m the one saying it, as if it’s a completely normal observation to make. Same with describing any dessert I like as “not too sweet.”

I sneeze with my entire body now, like an old Chinese man. To be fair, there are days I feel like an old Chinese man — the whole exercising thing is still a work in progress.

I get excited about buying things in bulk at Costco. There is something satisfying about knowing you’ve made a practical, long-term decision. I eat and drink things not because they’re enjoyable, but because they’re “good for me,” which feels like a personality shift I never saw coming.

And then there are the things that feel more specific, harder to explain unless you already understand them. I think about the Traditional Chinese Medicine concept of ngit hee / yeet hay more seriously now, when I mostly dismissed it as a kid. It’s not just a concept anymore; it’s a consequence. If I’m breaking out, it must be because I ate too many fried foods. Gotta drink some chrysanthemum tea. Or beer. Or eat some watermelon.

I reuse glass jars and takeout containers. After our New Year party, I sent people home with leftovers, and multiple people asked why I have so many plastic deli containers on hand. I save plastic bags — not just shopping bags, but the small produce ones too. I’ve caught myself saying “we have food at home,” sometimes out loud, sometimes just in my head.

I check the weather before I make plans now, because it actually affects what I’ll do and how I’ll feel (why is this such an old person thing?). I’ve also become skeptical of trends — not loudly, just a hesitation that makes me want to wait and see how things play out before buying in.

And there’s this saying: “You’ll understand when you’re older.” 

I used to hate that. It felt like a dismissal, like a way of ending a conversation without really answering the question. But now I understand what they meant, which is not the same as agreeing with it.

It’s not just that I’m picking up their habits, it’s that their reasoning is starting to make sense in a way it never did before. The decisions, the things that felt unnecessary or overly cautious at the time… they weren’t random. They were just based on information I didn’t have yet.

I don’t love that I get it now. That things I used to question are actually kind of reasonable. That if I follow the logic all the way through, it mostly checks out. Which is annoying, because I used to be very confident they were wrong. Ah, youth.

But I can see it now. And I can’t unsee it.

It’s a good thing my husband likes my mother.