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The End of Adolescence

My cousin Branson and I on Christmas, 2010. Photo courtesy of The Hicks family.
My cousin Branson and I on Christmas, 2010. Photo courtesy of The Hicks family.

In three weeks, I get my permit. I’m almost sixteen, a sophomore. This is the age I’ve always dreamed of being. Yet, now that I’m here, I wish I was the girl that’s in the pictures and the stories that my family tells. I wish I were the girl pretending to drive in the backseat because I couldn’t wait to be where I am now.

But soon I’ll be sixteen. It’s just now hitting me that there’s no way I can go back. Back to the girl I was before my siblings were born and I worried about grades. Back before COVID and before I took the ACT. 

I hate growing up. I hate knowing one day soon I’ll be applying for colleges, moving out, paying my bills, losing time for my friends, and becoming a real adult. I hate that being on a playground doesn’t bring me as much joy as it used to. I hate losing friends and I hate that I have three tests this week. 

I miss so much about being younger. 

I miss having family vacations in my Memaw’s Excursion where we’d listen to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack and laugh. I miss not knowing that one day those times would stop. 

I miss seeing my cousins – who I owe so much to – growing up without me, having kids, and getting married. And while I don’t wish to grow up faster or for them to stop their lives, I just wish we were all still living at my grandparent’s house, playing in the backyard. I miss my aunts and uncles dragging them to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner because without doing so, they don’t show up. 

I miss things being simpler than they are today. 

Things are so complicated now. The world doesn’t even feel the same. Two kids I’ve always known are in jail now due to the stupid things they have done. Two kids with cancer. Too many kids to count with kids of their own. Are we not still in high school? Are we not kids ourselves anymore? Why do we have the weight of the world on our shoulders? Why are we being treated like adults, why are we acting like adults when we really are just kids?

In three weeks I get my permit. I’m almost sixteen and I am just now realizing I’ll never go back to being the little girl in the treasured pictures and sacred memories. I’m the age I’ve always wanted to be…

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