I Want to Be Little Again

I want to be little again. I long for the times when going to my friend's house meant that she and I would run around the house and play games downstairs while our parents would talk upstairs. When there were no worries except if I would like what we were having for dinner or falling asleep during Mass. When all I wanted was to see the newest Disney movie and live adventures. When Mommabear was alive and I had no doubts that she would always be there to help me and care for me.

Things were simpler when I was 7. In fact, things didn't start to get complicated until I turned 12. Oh puberty. I can pinpoint all of the ages where I have felt a significant leap or development in maturity (if you're curious: 12, 16, 20, 23). I have a feeling another leap is coming upon me as my wedding is impending (I'm 26 now).

Sometimes things are too much, too heavy, too complicated, too involved. Being home makes me yearn for the simple, the young, the living, the past. The photo project I have started does not help this. I have gone through all of the rolls of pictures my parents had taken throughout the years, organized them according to year, then gone through year by year to take which pictures I want, put them in order, and then label them (and my labels are very detailed). I'm averaging 75 pictures per year and I have pictures from every year from 1984 through 2000, plus extras. It has been good for me to go through my life year by year, see who I was, what my parents looked like, where we went, and to remember. And it has been healing.

For the first time in many years, I am truly ready to move on with my life. I am ready to keep growing. In fact, I'm not sure that I've ever been ready to grow before; it normally just smacks me upside the head as I'm in the midst of it. I'm glad I'm home, I'm glad I'm where I'm at, I'm glad I have forewarning of growth, I'm glad I'm ready to grow, I'm glad for growth, I'm glad for life. I miss being the carefree child I was, but now I can be a carefree adult. Sometimes much harder said than done, especially as I feel the complete weight of familial burdens. I miss Mommabear. She was my safety net, my buffer, my partner, my friend. But something I learned from being a child was to believe in the invisible and to have faith and trust. Even when I could not see Mommabear or be with her when I was little, I always knew she was with me, I carried her with me. So I do the same now, but in an even more profound way.