I’m eighteen. I’m emancipated.

No more bondage to the things I’ve hated.

Now mom can’t  nag me out of bed

No forcing book knowledge in my head.


Emancipated!  I am free!

I’ll spread my wings; I’ll be ME.

No curfew, no midnight closing;

No rules and manners, no more posing


I can be rude; I can be crude.

I can eat junk, no more health food.

I can drink beer out on the street

I can leave chips on the car seat.


What, you say? I get no more allowance.

Let’s talk about it; can we make an alliance?

I have to pay rent?

All your patience is spent?   . . .


Dad, did you wash the car, it’s covered with dirt.

Mom, have you yet washed my shirt?

You say I have to look for a job.

I need help; I can’t look like a slob!


I’m eighteen. I’m emancipated.

But, it was for this day, mom and dad have awaited!


Prompt by Ruth, on Wednesday’s Word.










About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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20 Responses to EMANCIPATED! WHO’S FREE?

  1. ruthlakes says:

    Love your poem – reaching adult status certainly does not mean freedom from responsibility. Your poem made me chuckle as I thought about myself at 18, and my own two kids when they reached that magical age. I’m proud of the way they’ve both turned out though, each having their own very strong sense of ‘self’, and remaining true to themselves whilst respecting others’ space .
    Thank you for the ping back 😀

    • oneta hayes says:

      I guess there was a bit of a serious thought to the poem, but mostly I was having fun. I remember both my sons beginning college locally. They anxiously moved to the dorm. Neither of them lasted long in the dorm life. Then they were back home. I’m proud of them. They did not leave home again until they married at about 24 or 25 years. They became responsible husbands and fathers – and now grandfathers. I don’t remember the “I’ve gotta be me” attitudes from their coming of age.

  2. Thumbup says:

    How about cooking?

  3. I remember turning 18 and being excited of becoming an adult. In our culture, we don’t really get emancipated until we are married, so I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was about, ‘coz I was still the pampered little girl of my parents!
    I loved your poem, it speaks of the harsh realities of adulthood! 😀

    • oneta hayes says:

      This was written in fun, but it has a great bit of truth in it. Our youth are so anxious to make their own decisions with societal pressure urging them, but few of them are mature enough to make long ranging choices. Oh, I know there are exceptions. The armed forces for instance; however, those young people make their decision to join with an understanding of the rules and disciple that is going to be required of them. They are a special kind and I am thankful. There is also a special set of youth who flee disfunctional homes, mature fast and take responsibility. I hope you have read me enough to know I love youth as individuals a lot, but I don’t think the general culture demands enough from them. They often sit on their potential too long! Thanks for commenting, Rashmi.

  4. Faye says:

    Such a true reflection of realities of freedom where the TRUTH of responsibilities in maturity are expressed. Love the poem. Thanks.

    • oneta hayes says:

      Thanks for reading and commenting, Faye. there is a seed of reality in this poem undertaken for fun. I’ve heard that there has to be some truth in a story to make it funny.

  5. Jodee says:

    I love it! 😂 I have to admit, it brings back memories of the day and days, months… etc. following my oldest child’s eighteenth birthday LOL! He ‘assumed’ that his age was the turning point from which he no longer had to abide by house rules or any of our rules for that matter. We had some rough days. The learning curve was very steep for him back then to say the least!

    • oneta hayes says:

      I believe you have described a scenario in which many have had at least a passing acquaintance with this situation. Thanks for the comment. One time my 17 year old son told me we (dad and I) just took care of him because the law made us! I said to him, “You have just seven months to say that then you’ll never say it again!” He never said it again. But he did age gracefully and is a wonderful man, father, and now grandfather. Too bad we have such trauma at such an important decision making time of one’s life. But it is often a time of making and breaking. Fortunately the Lord is a lover and a forgiver and he helps us to the same.

  6. Ha, ha! Well some people sought freedom and emancipation, but they forgot that responsibilities goes with it including paying their own bills 😉

  7. Dawn Marie says:

    Giggles! I love this! Reflective of never realizing just how smart our parents were until we grow older.

    • oneta hayes says:

      Refer to my answer to Jodee above about my 17 year old who one time told me that we wouldn’t even take care of him except that the law made us. I told him he could only say that seven more months. He didn’t take the chance again! He is a delightful grandpa now. His grandchildren call him HeHaw. He grew up to be a wonderful citizen of country and the kingdom of God. I’m blessed. The limerick was fun to write, however.

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