03 December 2012 "Teenagers"

My parents never let me go near the teenagers in my neighborhood.

That word: teenagers—it was so foreign and unknown.

They would hang out on the playground after dark, long after I had to go inside.

I never really knew what it was that they were doing, but

I judged from the aftermath that I usually saw in the morning.

Empty liquor bottles,

An occasional cigarette butt,

The swings flipped up in a way only our parents could fix for us.

I remember being terrifyingly enthralled by them.

They lived a life I had never known.

They stayed up late, participated in illegal activities, and did things just for thrills.

I was the sweet little girl in the house with the yellow door,

And I yearned to understand them.

But growing older has made me wiser, and I’ve realized how easily we can slip into the persona of those our parents tried to protect us from.

I longed to be one of those teenagers but now I realize that all they ever wanted was

to be as free as my childhood innocence.