![]() I may have lost “the kind of radiance you only have at 17,” but that doesn’t mean that my 17-year-old self is lost, too. ![]() I used to look at growing up as an uncontrollable loss, but I am starting to realize that growing older is about adding not losing. I like the older, more confident person I am now. And even though I don’t want to grow up, I don’t want to be her either. I know that I am not the same girl who arrived in Gambier, Ohio three years ago. It is hard to think that these moments are the first of my last on this campus. We have impromptu sleepovers and watch dark midwestern storm clouds erase pink sunsets. I make spreadsheets during the week and attend themed costume parties with friends on the weekends. Right now, I am spending the summer on my college campus, working my first big girl job. I want to turn 3 and a half over and over again. I like playing pretend, and I get anxious when my siblings talk about how old I will be when they graduate college. On my 11th birthday, I cried because I realized I wouldn’t be able to use my hands to tell people how old I was anymore. One of the most terrifying parts of growing up is realizing that you can never really know what is going to happen next. You look in the mirror, and you welcome her. Maybe you’re happy to be this older version of yourself. When you look in the mirror, do you see your face? Is it the same face you’ve always had? Maybe it’s thinner, stronger, more tired. Do you remember how we used to be little kids? With baby fat protecting the veins on the backs of our hands and the bones beneath our cheeks.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |