Friday Frivolity: Last Times at Childhood High
I have a bittersweet topic for today’s Friday Frivolity, so beware.
To write YA books, I have to do a lot of reflecting on my teenage years. That involves trying to remember all the feelings and experiences of growing into adulthood. Many of the memories are fun (I didn’t have an angsty adolescence) but a few make me kind of wistful.
Have you ever thought about how many “last times” of our growing-up years have been lost to the ether? Most of us don’t keep doing the same things we did at 4, at 7, at 11 … so, logically speaking, there had to have been a last time for lots of things—but they’re gone, never remarked because at every age, we sort of assume that life will continue to be the way we know it today.
For instance, I can’t remember:
- The last time I played Dodge-the-Tree—i.e. sledded down the backyard of the house where I grew up. My parents moved the summer I was 26, so there’s definitely no going back.
- The last time my two younger sisters and I packed little wooden Barbie trunks and pretended they were Conestoga wagons rolling over the great prairie (our green living room carpet).
- Heck, the last time I played with my sisters. It must have been upsetting for them when the playmate they had all their lives suddenly didn’t feel like joining in their creative adventures any longer. I remember being 14 or 15 (I played a lot longer than most girls my age) and how my limbs just didn’t have the energy anymore. At least they made up for it by casting me as the mean old landlady in their new game, which could best be described as “Dickensian Orphans.”
Growing up is tough, and letting go is all part of the process. I guess my point is that even in adulthood you never know when will be the last time you do something you love. Instead of letting that be a depressing thought, turn it into an inspiring one.
Make new memories. Enjoy every second. They’re all worth it.