A Moment of Silence for My Youth

Kathryn and I have been doing what any normal and educated person would be doing in the record setting heat of summer: doing intensive manual labor in the yard. Afternoons have been spent hunched over, ripping up weeds, digging up plants, developing blisters on my hands, and sweating most of my body weight away. Stupid, I know, but we are on a mission to put in some new beds in our front lawn and we will not let catci, bees, or 104 degree heat stop us. I like to call it: Mission Impossible. I sing the theme song often to Kathryn's dismay.

So, while we have been breaking our backs in the oppressive Charlotte heat, we have developed a quick friendship with a neighborhood girl named Jericca. I think that is how you spell it. She most likely will not be reading this, so I suppose it does not really matter either way. Jerrica is around 10 years old and has recently moved to Charlotte from Indiana. She is a very sweet girl and loves to pet our dog when we go on walks. Lately, she has meandered into our yard and helped us dig holes, spray plants (and me) with water, and get dirty with us.

And she has been relentlessly inviting herself over to spend the night with us. At first I thought, now, this is just odd. Why in the world would this kid want to spend the night over at our house? Honestly, what would we do? Does she think we'd stay up all night eating ice cream and playing board games? Does she not know that we are probably the most boring house on the block? We usually eat a healthy dinner (thanks Kathryn), watch an episode of Lost, and then go to bed around 10 o'clock. She would hate it over here. I could think of a few more houses on our block that would be much more exciting and entertaining.

But then I remembered what it was like to be on the same street with grown-ups. You assume their world is so exciting and adult-ish. And I realized that this is how Jerricca sees us: grown-ups. We are married. We have a house. We drive cars. We work with plants in the front yard. That is about as grown-up as it gets. It finally hit me. I am no longer a child. I am one of those grown-ups. Do I feel like it? Not even close. Do I feel like I am merely pretending at this thing called life? Yep. Do I have any idea how insurance works? Nope.

If only Jerrica knew who I really was. I wonder if she would still want to sleep over then, knowing that I am really just a person like her in this grown-up body living in this grown-up house. I don't have the heart to tell her that I am not nearly as interesting as she thinks I am.