Grown Up

I was sitting outside with Ethan getting eaten alive by ants when the kids in our neighborhood finally got the courage to come on over and say hi. Ethan and I try to sit outside for at least 15 minutes each day for a change of scenery and to get the hell out of the house, especially if we have no errands to run that day. I always see the same kids: a puffy haired 6ish-year old with missing front teeth, a skinny and tan 10ish-year old with dirty blonde hair that lives across the street and a gorgeous light-skinned black girl (am I in trouble for saying 'black'?) with ringlets.

Ah, to be young again! It recently occurred to me that I will be 27 in less than 6 months. This pains me to no end. Toothless, Skinny and Ringlets asked me about Ethan, about our dog, simple and innocent questions that brought me back to my youth. Toothless is in 1st grade. I remember this year. I had my first crush. I was (embarrassingly) the teacher's pet. I got severe pneumonia and had to be hospitalized for 2 weeks. Skinny and Ringlets are both in 5th grade. At their age I was on the verge of my first kiss, liked (loved!) boys, was extremely uncomfortable in my own skin, didn't know what the hell to do with my hair, liked to eat a little too much and followed the rules a little too closely. My mother had done a great job with me. I had a conscience. I was envious of the other girls, who were allowed to wear panty hose (not even up for consideration as far as my mom was concerned) and dangly earrings (I was not allowed to wear anything but studs until my 13th birthday, as a rule). I was envious but also scared. I remember sitting in my friends room in the dark at a birthday party because they were watching an R-rated movie, as my mother didn't even allow me too see PG-13's. I obeyed. I was a good kid. I vaguely recall my friend's mother coming back to the room to get me, promising that everything would be okay and that I should come watch the movie with the rest of the kids, she wouldn't tell. I was hesitant but did what she said. I had nightmares that night. I'm sure I eventually told my mother what had happened.

Highschool was my time to act out, rebel, make up for lost time. I had sex. Did drugs. Paved the way for years of (almost) regret, but not quite. I realize that everything I've been through makes me who I am today, and I love who I am today. So there are no regrets. There aren't any "If I only would've/could've..."'s. I tell the neighborhood girls to enjoy life, to enjoy where they are and to not rush anything. I know they won't listen. I know they'll wear lipstick too early and let boys feel them up before they're ready. At their age I would never have listened to anyone that told me the same. But I feel good knowing that I tried. I had to say it, and I suppose they are programmed to totally ignore and disregard it. I wonder if they'll think about what I said when they're older and understand what I meant, wishing for these days again.