I’ve never liked growing up. It comes with too many responsibilities like taxes, working and worst of all leaving your childhood behind. At the beginning of each school year, I used to ask myself, “What will I look like when I’m in high school?” or “What will my life be like when I’m older?” Now that I am nearing the age of sixteen, it doesn’t feel real that I’m two years away from being an adult.

This embarrasses me, but every time the words “Happy Birthday” ring in my ears, I cry. The fact that I am another year older, another year away from my childhood is all that those words mean to me. Every time I see or feel nostalgia, I get funny, mixed feelings in my stomach. I’m happy being reminded of those memories, but at the same time I am sick at the fact that I will never be able to go back. Nostalgia feels like almost losing a person, except that person being your past self.  Whenever I see old videos or pictures, it makes my stomach churn when I realize I am not the same person today as in those videos. Nostalgia remains the most confusing emotion ever, I love and hate it at the same time. What other emotion can do this to me?

I remember tea parties with my gran where we dressed up in “fancy” clothes (which includes anything from my gran’s closet) and drank out of a pink tea set that had perfect white polka dots painted on it. During summers, the motor of our boat lulled me to sleep on long boat days under my Tinkerbell umbrella, which my mom held over me to block my face from the raging sun. My gran lightly traced features on my face with her gentle fingertips, causing me to drift away to my dreams. Other times, I recall scraping my knees on our neighborhood’s concrete, messing around with my neighbors and my mom cleaning my wounds in our half-bath sink. I remember all of the errands I ran with my mom, whether it required going to the grocery store or practicing flash cards in back of the car waiting to pick up my older sister from elementary school. I had nap time at school every day, my parents took care of any conflict, and I didn’t understand the responsibility that you receive as you grow up yet.

Seeing visual memories of Christmas morning traditions, my older sister waking me up from the other side of the bed and excitement immediately flowing through my body. The tan square and diamond shaped tile cools the soles of my little feet as I wait anxiously for my parents to set up our gifts. Candy cane flavored Hershey Kisses line the hallway in a sugary trail leading to what I anticipated the whole holiday season, like a rainbow leading to a pot of gold. Running up to my brand-new Barbie Dreamhouse under our charming, sparkling Christmas tree I hug my parents and thank them happily. The tree illuminates the spirit of Christmas, its warm lights dancing off of our Texas Tech themed ornaments. I hear our front door open as cool winter air and familiar voices rush throughout the house, and I know that my family arrived for Christmas dinner. I remember all of our hugs and kisses, greetings and goodbyes. The aroma of cinnamon Scentsy wax bars melting fills my nostrils, along with the delightful smell of roasted turkey and cranberry dishes filling the house, my home.

For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with dance. So many memories are evoked when I think of dancing, all of which bring me back to the start. I remember standing in my parents’ bathroom, my head aching from all of the bobby pins in my bun and my mom brushing her Clinique makeup products onto my squinted eyes. After a couple of finishing touches, the familiar scent of hairspray reminds me where I’ll be in the next hour – the stage. I did not enjoy the itchy tights or the yellow sequins of my costume poking me in all the wrong places, but it remained all worth it in the end. The bright stage lights hit my face and adrenaline flows through my body as the music blares onto the stage and echoes throughout the dark auditorium. I perform all of my dances to my family and friends, keeping an eye on my dance teacher, Ms. Sarah, in case I forget a part of the dance. After the recital, I see my parents and I run into my dad’s arms as he lifts me into the air and hands me a bouquet of colorful flowers. “I’m so proud of you, Bear!” I hear more times than I can count. The sweet smell of my mother’s perfume comforts me after I feel the warmth of her hug, and we finally head back home after a long day of dancing. On the way out, I said goodbye to the older girls from our studio as I hoped I would be like them one day. I always get that funny feeling of nostalgia when I realize that I am that “older girl” now and I help in the classes that I once took years ago. Now, I’m the one who became the role model where other little girls look up to me. It’s hard for me to grasp that I won’t ever be that silly little girl that smudged her red lipstick and purple eyeshadow all over her face again.

When I hear the word “family,” memories of gatherings at Grandma’s house come to mind. Running around barefoot in Grandma’s messy, uncut lawn, swinging on her rope swing in the front yard and the smell of waxy cinnamon Yankee candles drift into my thoughts. Our annual Thanksgiving football game in the rocks and gravel always resulted in a couple of stinging, skinned knees, but it became worth it because we got to do it together as a family. The fact that I don’t have the chance to do this anymore makes my heart ache, it makes me want to say that time acts as a thief. The part that hits the hardest stays seeing people through memories that you can no longer see in person. Hearing my grandmother’s sweet, West Texas voice behind the camera of my first birthday video feels like a warm embrace, like she’s really here again. Losing her years ago still feels surreal, like it hasn’t actually happened. Seeing people that remain present in your life grow older hits home, too. Seeing my father grow gray hairs in his wiry beard and my mother form soft wrinkles around her hazel eyes reminds me that they aren’t as young as they once lived their lives. Hearing my older sister’s little voice in old videos that isn’t so little anymore reminds me that she became an adult, almost 20 years old. I can’t believe she walks into her college lecture hall as an adult when I still see her as the annoying 11 year old who always bossed me around. 

I could go on forever about nostalgic memories, but I must remind myself to stay in the present or else I may forget to live in the moment and make new memories. The fact I am two years away from adulthood absolutely terrifies me, but I am ready to face whatever comes my way because my childhood and the people from it have made me into the person I am today. Every dance recital, family gathering or ordinary memory impacts me and awakens the idea of how wonderful life can be if you commit to it. Even though it hurts to leave the past behind, you must do it in order to continue being the amazing person you happen to become.