I remember first grade, asking my mom to do pig tails in my hair and sitting in front of the TV patiently waiting. I remember getting dressed for the first day of sixth grade, picking out a red and white dress and watching “How to Decorate Your Locker” videos. I remember the first day of high school and listening to “Fifteen” by Taylor Swift on the way there. I remember walking into Barnes and Nobles looking at college books. I remember the first time I stepped onto a college campus for a tour. I felt like everyone was looking at me and with every step I was super cautious. I wondered, “Am I doing the right thing?” etc.
Somewhere along those lines, time passed. I grew older and now I sit here in front of my computer screen wondering how I am supposed to be a sophomore in college when I feel like I wasn’t ever a freshmen at Bentley or a senior in high school.
I feel like I am still asking my mom for pigtails, my dad for a ride to the movies, and my younger brother to sit with me on the bus. I think it doesn’t hit you until a certain moment, growing up I mean.
And you can find the answers for everything but not for time to stop, not to rewind the clock a couple years, not for do-overs or re-do’s or go-backs.
I wish I asked my dad to walk me to class one more time, I don’t know why sometimes I’m still nervous to walk alone. I wish I wrote down every bit of advice my mother gave me.
It doesn’t hit you until it does. Until you look around and wonder how you ended up there, and who you told that you didn’t need help anymore.
It’s strange how growing up works, how one second you have people taking you by the hand and guiding you and then overnight society believes you don’t need it anymore.
I still need guidance, and I am not ready to let go of a helping hand just yet. Where’s the pause?