Here's another post on how we're not kids anymore...

My stuffed animals. Scary things coming into my window because it was so close to the roof ledge. When my friends across the street would come play. Sunday school. If mom found out I took that cookie...twirl, dancing in front of the mirror in my white tutu.

Those were the things in my head when I was little. Everything about life seemed so impossibly far away. Being a big person seemed so liberating, so wonderful; like some kind of secret that would make you happy forever. I used to think that growing up would get rid of all those fears...bad dreams, mom leaving me at a birthday party, swimming lessons. But bigger fears are introduced. And the most basic things we built off of are removed. We find out our parents are people too with flaws and shortcomings. They're not that perfect, generic lifespring of protection and answers; they are people, they have souls, fears, doubts, dreams, needs, hopes...faults; and that we still will when we're their age. That life isn't an hourglass tipped over on a perfection half. That your soul doesn't just refine itself. That we will always know how to cry the way we did when we were children. We find out that money is important. That no one will protect you the way they did when you were little and going shopping with mummy and daddy. That you become solitary. In a way, alone.

And yet, a blossoming island if you stand in the Sun.