It's kinda tough getting older...

When I was a little girl, I couldn't wait to grow up. I thought that once I became a teenager, nothing would hurt me anymore. I looked forward to the days when a scrape on the knee would draw no more tears than a mosquito bite.

Well, I'm officially older. And you know what? Things hurt worse than they did when I was a child. Yes, knee scrapes come along far less often and are far less significant than they once were, but the hurts and disappointments that come with age last longer and leave a far deeper scar. I have to worry about pain from more than just falling off my bike or getting a shot from the doctor. My heart can and has been broken, and that's something that a simple bandaid just can't fix.

Also, I believed that I would fall in love in high school or college and get married right after graduation at the age of 21 or 22. Then, I assumed I would start having babies at 23. I never imagined that I would celebrate my 21st birthday having never been asked on a date or kissed.

That's right folks, you're looking at possibly the oldest perpetually single girl since Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed. And I like to think that I was cooler than her in high school. Maybe I'm wrong.

How does that happen? How did I get so old and not even realize it? When did I get too old to play with Barbies? When was the last time that I watched Barney, and who decided that I should grow up and move on? When was the last time that coloring was an acceptable activity during classtime? How did I finally find out that my parents really don't know everything and can't protect me for the rest of my life? What was the last thing I said to that friend, and did I know that I would never see them again?

I know that everyone has to grow up eventually, but it seems that the older I get, the harder I cling to my childhood and the days when it didn't matter if that kid on the playground called me fat because I knew that I would go home and my Daddy would still love me.

And when did my Daddy's love stop being enough?

Why didn't anyone ask me if I was ready to grow up? Why didn't I have more of a choice in the matter?

When I was a little girl, I couldn't wait to grow up, but, now that I have, I'd give anything to be five again.


amanda February 10, 2010 at 2:16 PM  

boo, i love you. this is really tender. and just a little reminder...god is aren't waiting for a life of misery :).

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