The nature of responsibility

Earlier today, I drove my two sisters (really I only have one, but the other is an honourary sibling) up to the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal for their soccer team bonding retreat or something.  I think it's that, but really, there's too many soccer things for me to say it was that with complete certainty.  Normally, it's a drive I really enjoy; the views are fantastic.  In the sunshine, that is.  But no, we got to make the journey in the pouring rain.  Not quite the same breathtaking views when other cars are kicking up puddles into your vision.

As I was making the return journey alone, I had a sudden realization: I am much more cautious when other people are in the car with me.  I feel that this is a good thing; it shows an understanding, conscious or subconscious, that I have a greater level of responsibility when others are in the car with me.  On the way up, our top speed was 90km/h, and that was reached only in the posted area.  That's right, speed limit diligence the entire way; be proud of/for me.  This was of course, mostly due to the fact that it was raining.  I would have been traveling at a bit quicker of a pace if visibility hadn't been so poor (also, Vancouverites have an inability to drive in the rain - an unfortunate fact seeing as it rains 5 months a year, on average - and this makes me inherently more cautious in the rain).  There were even a couple of instances where I almost turned to my sister - the real one - and said "I don't ever want you driving in these conditions, you hear?"  I didn't say this, but I certainly thought it, and if you read this Sophie, then consider it a binding agreement that you won't.

The way back is when I came to my realization; looking down at the odometer, I was zipping along at 110 in an 80 zone.  Not for the mere purpose of going fast - although my invincibility complex was satisfactory satiated -, but because I felt entirely comfortable going a bit faster with just myself in the car.  The entire rest of the return drive, I was thinking about the nature of responsibility.  I've been babysitting regularly since I was 12, so clearly parents felt reasonably comfortable leaving their children with me.  But would I have classified myself as responsible at age 12?  Probably not.  I've heard several of my friends moaning about the prospect of hitting their 20th birthdays, because, to paraphrase their words, "That's when you've got to have your life in order and be responsible and shit."

"From now on, your life is nothing but crushing obligation" wouldn't fit on the cake...

Not only is this sentiment at odds with the general feeling of the year before and turning 19 (more of a "Sweet, I'm going to party so hard now that I'm legal!" sentiment), but I feel that it's incorrect.  You don't reach a certain point in your life when someone turns to you and says "Okay, you're all set now.  Put down the bottle of tequila, it's time to be responsible."  Responsibility is something that just happens.  One day, you'll be babysitting and tell the kids, actually, you shouldn't use all the kitchenware to make a suit of armor and then back-flip off the trampoline (Quick note: that is not based on a real event.  Leave your children in my care!), and you'll come to the realization that you're the adult in this scenario.  For me, this happened sooner than today, it's just that it popped into my head and wanted to be written about.  There's no magic instruction book, and yes, occasionally you'll fuck up.  But if you've reached an acceptable level of understanding that you have responsibility outside of yourself, those fuck-ups won't be too detrimental.

I think that the best way I can describe it is that responsibility, and the exercising of responsibility, is a  privilege, and not a right.  You don't hit age 20 and go and apply for a license for it, as you do for driving.  It's something that, if you've proven yourself, you'll be given; you just won't know it until it hits you in the face.