My Nina is a teenager today. Lover Boy said this morning to her, “Listen, there’s a big difference between 12 and 13. Twelllllllve – and thirteeeeeeeen. Did you hear it? Thirteeeeeeeeen. You’re a teenager!”
I am parenting a teen. Am I old enough for this? I mean, yes, I had her early, but I was old enough for her to be legitimate. Yet inside my almost-37-year-old body – there’s a teenager lurking inside still desperately trying to get it “right”. I mean, it’s a little scary how easy it is for me to relate to my daughter.
How is it that life goes faster and faster the older you get? Is it that there’s less to look forward to, and so time doesn’t draaaaaag by when you’re living for your birthday and Christmas each year? Is it the increased responsibility that keeps you so preoccupied with getting it all in that life is reduced to a blur? Or is there something funky in the realm of time that, in fact, increases the velocity of life??
My Nina – my gift for the last 13 years. I love who she is becoming, and am thrilled to have the privilege to usher her into her teen years.
