No. 26
17:25
and you have conquered the quarter-life crisis
shed the youth of the twenties, that adult-adolescence
and it hits you how you have lost
your childhood idleness
the waking-up-before-mum-and-dad-on-sunday-mornings
kind of idleness
without chronic fatigue plaguing your bones
but the whole day stretched out in front of you
breakfast in front of CBBC
racing your brother down the swimming lanes
the chemical tang of chlorine clinging to your hair
maxing out your library card
and feeling the afternoon drift you by in blissfully slow motion
as you drift through the pages of your hundredth book
it's forgetting
that you once thought flowers were a faded sentiment
a cop-out gift
an easy apology
and finding yourself one morning
appreciating the beauty in a bouquet of flowers
a surprise at the front door
all blooming colour
sunrise reds and citrus oranges
raspberry pinks and sunflower yellows
and finding yourself smile
despite the apathy you once harboured
towards a bunch of damn flowers
it's finding comfort in the grocery aisle
picking out a ripe bunch of bananas and the sweetest of strawberries
and chocolate cake for one - just because
it's the excitement in buying yourself a pink hand mixer
and matching pink baking accessories
and any other kitchen appliance - in pink, of course,
and finally understanding that, yes,
chocolate hobnobs are infinitely more satisfying than chocolate digestives
it's powering through the day on three shots of caffeine
and discovering the miracle of concealer
to cover up the dark circles you're too young to have
and crashing on the pillow before the clock even strikes eleven pm
the word all-nighter now as foreign and distant as a continent separated by ocean
it's when you closely look at sixteen year olds that walk past you on the street
and you wonder how time has flown so fast that you now have a decade on them
when sixteen for you still feels like yesterday
and you wonder how the world has spun so fast out of your control
that you are a whole generation away
that to them, you are so adult
that you get the look of awe from little ones
who marvel at grownups because wow they're so grown up!
because you are now "too old" to get it
and you get a shared look of sympathy from fellow "adults"
who are completely winging it
just like you
and this is it - you are here.
you are officially one of them - congratulations
welcome to the grown up world of
student loans bills jobs
train tickets and gas station receipts
car insurance and speeding fines
and no amount of sleep ever being enough
it's pencil skirts and blouses
high heels and lipstick
and perfectly curled hair
picture of false confidence
making it all up as you go along because
fake it till you make it
is the golden rule of the twenties (and every other decade after it)
it's watching the cost of Freddo chocolate bars rocket to unaffordable
and penny sweets no longer being the price of a penny
and the night before your trip to Alton Towers
you no longer feel the finger-tingling excitement
that gives you butterflies and keeps you up at night
but it's the stress of will my car make it there and back
it's signing up to fitness classes
and self-teaching outdoor yoga
because your heart rate collapses after running up a flight of stairs
and you realise that youth
that fleeting, temporary, folly youth
is no longer on your side
but it's also freedom
of heart and mind
and choosing which moments to live for
like
jumping on the train to Merseyside to a football cup quarter-final
breathing in that adrenaline high that hits differently
when you wish you could freeze time mid-celebration
mid-everything
like
summer brunches in Manchester
and Blackpool sunsets over Pleasure Beach
and West End theatre nights
it's being able to say no
without having to apologise for it
the privilege of cancelling plans
because Saturday nights are for pyjamas
and watching Match of the Day with mum and dad
and that small fraction of the week is the only moment you feel
warm and comforted and at home
it's having no one to answer to
when retail therapy sometimes feels like oxygen to breathe
and eating sticky jam doughnuts for breakfast and coco pops for dinner
and the luxury of watching superhero films in the middle of the afternoon
without feeling guilty about it
and never having to apologise or feel guilty for being you
because you, you have realised, are enough
not for everyone
but for yourself, and really, that's all that matters
it's when you take a slice of the night to read a book
and having it feel like a luxury
when the night stills and the noises of life fade to nothing
and it's just you and the words and the amber glow of your bedside lamp
the words filling the periphery of a black-and-white world with glorious colour
an epic love affair
that bites out a chunk of your heart and crawls into waking life
a physical ache
because at sixteen you believed a love affair like that could exist
but ten years later knowing that a love affair like that can only ever exist in fiction
it's watching your best friend get married
and become a mother
and when you see her hold her little girl in her arms
all you can think of is that time in the playground when you had the biggest fight
and you can't even remember what it was about - something stupid, of course
but there was screaming and shouting and lots of tears
and you thought you'd lost her forever
until she wrote you a little apology card
a pink glitter flower with her neat handwriting inside saying
best friends forever
and so now here you are
still best friends
watching her hold the life to which she gave birth
and this time, there are tears because she is still here
and it amazes you how life works
how it fast forwards and spins and it goes on
...but the most important parts stay
it's when you drive past your old school
but now mum's in the passenger seat and you're at the steering wheel
and you're teaching dad how to use his new iPhone
when once upon a time he was teaching you how to use that old brick computer
Windows 97, it was
and that is how much time has lapsed
that is how far the world has advanced from your days of counting on an abacus
and listening to the singing alphabet from a faded yellow cassette player
it's seeing the mortality in your father's wrinkles and worn hands
grey hair he dyes black and vitamin pills he pops every morning
in your mother's tired eyes and aching joints
and the speed of their life that has naturally slowed down
and the very real fear that one day
soon
you are going to have to live in a world without them
and nothing will ever be the same again
it's regretting the teenage fights you had with your mother
because she didn't deserve the mood swings or bratty behaviour
when she is the best thing in your life
and the closeness you have with her
makes you realise how much of her you have in you
and suddenly you can talk to her about all the things you once couldn't
she confides in you, now, just as you confide in her
and you crave the comfort of her advice because, yes, mum does know best
and she is still Wonder Woman - she always will be -
but she is also human
and you love her all the more for it
it's remembering your dad tell you bedtime stories
that he was making up on the spot
but falling asleep before his kids did
but falling asleep before his kids did
(the next morning - "how did the story end, Dad?")
and that night you watched a horror film you were too young for
but you were too scared to wake mum up because you'd get in trouble
so you just waited outside their bedroom door
shuffling your feet and telling your eight year old self off
cross for not being brave
and feeling stupid for thinking the monsters would get you in the night
eventually you give in
because fear of monsters outweighs the fear of mum
and your hand has only just turned the handle
but your dad is already there
because he knows
he knows his little girl scares easily
and she won't sleep until he sleeps with her
so he sleepily comes into her room
and takes the single bed next to her
and she is instantly asleep
because the world is always safe when dad is there
it's getting him to sweep out the spiders you find in your room
and wondering who'll do it for you when he is no longer around
and you tell yourself to shut up because that hypothetical situation is just that
hypothetical
right?
and he still buys you an ice cream cone from the van in the park
- it doesn't matter how old you are -
and still buys you punnets of strawberries because that was your favourite fruit growing up
(it still is)
and he knows it
and when you look up at the blue sky
you remember the childhood summer evenings
when you'd swing up to the apple tree
your brother swinging right beside you
trying to see who could swing the highest
shouting hello to the planes flying by
thinking that the passengers through those tiny windows could hear you
and you wish you could go back to that moment in time
for just a moment
to feel that nostalgia and taste that childhood sweetness again
it's when birthdays don't mean party hats and goodie bags and expensive gifts
but a single cupcake with a candle
and an extra thirty pounds to get you through the week
and it's when the clock strikes twelve
and you're closer to thirty than you are to twenty
and you wonder how the hell you ended up here
when it was just yesterday you were sixteen planning your whole life ahead
and none of it has happened like it was supposed to
but it's your life, anyway, and it's what it should be
and you are happy
and proud
and at one with life
because you have changed and grown and learnt - some things, the hard way
but the woman who smiles back at you from the mirror
is the woman you want to be
and the next time you run your hands over the threads that make up your blanket of life
picking out memories of gold with your brother
laughing so hard you can't breathe
grateful that he is the one you share them with
and the next time you're cooking with mum in the kitchen
rolling your eyes with flour covered hands as she jokingly tells you off for your misshapen dough
and the next time you're playing badminton with dad in the back garden
(the swings are gone, the apple tree is gone, but the planes still fly above)
you'll know
that all of it
past present future
comes and goes
gentle tide, choppy waters, rough winds
they come
and go
and through it all
so do you.
and that night you watched a horror film you were too young for
but you were too scared to wake mum up because you'd get in trouble
so you just waited outside their bedroom door
shuffling your feet and telling your eight year old self off
cross for not being brave
and feeling stupid for thinking the monsters would get you in the night
eventually you give in
because fear of monsters outweighs the fear of mum
and your hand has only just turned the handle
but your dad is already there
because he knows
he knows his little girl scares easily
and she won't sleep until he sleeps with her
so he sleepily comes into her room
and takes the single bed next to her
and she is instantly asleep
because the world is always safe when dad is there
it's getting him to sweep out the spiders you find in your room
and wondering who'll do it for you when he is no longer around
and you tell yourself to shut up because that hypothetical situation is just that
hypothetical
right?
and he still buys you an ice cream cone from the van in the park
- it doesn't matter how old you are -
and still buys you punnets of strawberries because that was your favourite fruit growing up
(it still is)
and he knows it
and when you look up at the blue sky
you remember the childhood summer evenings
when you'd swing up to the apple tree
your brother swinging right beside you
trying to see who could swing the highest
shouting hello to the planes flying by
thinking that the passengers through those tiny windows could hear you
and you wish you could go back to that moment in time
for just a moment
to feel that nostalgia and taste that childhood sweetness again
it's when birthdays don't mean party hats and goodie bags and expensive gifts
but a single cupcake with a candle
and an extra thirty pounds to get you through the week
and it's when the clock strikes twelve
and you're closer to thirty than you are to twenty
and you wonder how the hell you ended up here
when it was just yesterday you were sixteen planning your whole life ahead
and none of it has happened like it was supposed to
but it's your life, anyway, and it's what it should be
and you are happy
and proud
and at one with life
because you have changed and grown and learnt - some things, the hard way
but the woman who smiles back at you from the mirror
is the woman you want to be
and the next time you run your hands over the threads that make up your blanket of life
picking out memories of gold with your brother
laughing so hard you can't breathe
grateful that he is the one you share them with
and the next time you're cooking with mum in the kitchen
rolling your eyes with flour covered hands as she jokingly tells you off for your misshapen dough
and the next time you're playing badminton with dad in the back garden
(the swings are gone, the apple tree is gone, but the planes still fly above)
you'll know
that all of it
past present future
comes and goes
gentle tide, choppy waters, rough winds
they come
and go
and through it all
so do you.
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