// twenty-one//
birth to seven involved the most physical transformation but memories are hard to pin down,
slipping through my fingers
when I reach to catch them, pull them closer for a better look, only fragments make it through --
sun on my face at a picnic, people laughing
eating cookies at a green Formica countertop, listening
to the woman on the phone, telling my parents
she found me, being proud I had memorized
my phone number
my kindergarten teacher who looked like an angel
and played the piano as we settled down for nap,
noticing my nap mat wasn’t
as nice as my classmates
eight to fourteen is flush with self-discovery, my early growth spurt leads to first picks in playground sports,
of all the kids, not just the girls
overhearing another mother tell mine I should
be wearing a bra
braces that constantly cause pain, both physically and
emotionally, feeling too self-conscious to smile
disappointed that instead of drums we were made to beat our sticks against silent pads for middle school band, choosing to switch to trombone, unapologetically loud
being asked to “go out” and broken up with in the same day, holding sweaty hands between the bells,
nervously slipping notes
through locker air vents
fifteen to twenty-one could be a memoir all its own
stopping for McDonald’s French fries after I finally
pass my driver’s exam
sitting at the kitchen table making another college pro and con list, an attempt to control the
impending metamorphosis
standing in white painted shoe outlines on the pavement, unsure exactly what to expect from cadets
approaching eagerly
hearing the snow gust like wind under my snowboard,
a Midwesterner repeatedly awed by the beauty
of the Rockies from the top of the chair lift
watching the plane smash into the World Trade Center on my dorm room TV,
trying to convince my first period instructor
to turn on the news
the world before me indelibly changed,
adulthood the only option