Author’s Note: This was my first summative this year for English. The following is the author's note that I wrote for the piece. This piece was written for anyone who is growing up and worried about giving up things that you loved as a kid. I guess everyone is always growing up, although at different stages, so this piece is for everyone who needs a reminder that it’s okay to not grow up at lightning speed. I decided to write this piece because even though I knew all along I was growing up, at the start of the school year, I realized how much I was really growing up. I had gotten a job, my license, and now had more responsibility. Plus, I wouldn’t be riding the bus to school like I had almost every day of my life since Kindergarten. This represents a new stage in my life. Throughout my piece, I reflected on a few of the various stages of life I went through all relating to one topic.
One of my first memories, maybe even my first memory, was of my dad squatting down to pick up a random rock while I stood at the porch of my old house, watching him, as any curious two year old would. He held up the small stone for me to see, saying, “Look, Lauren, it’s a birdie egg!” I squealed with delight as he pressed it into the palm of my hand.
Turning around to show my mom, I showed it to her, saying, “I have a birdie egg!”
She didn’t say anything back to me, but as I became distracted with other random things due to my extremely short attention span, she told my dad, “Why are you teaching her things that aren’t correct? She’s going to grow up believing all of these weird lies you tell her.”
A year or two later, when I took my birdie egg off my doll house shaped book shelf, my dad came into my room. “You know that’s not a real birdie egg, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I still like it.” Even though I had known it was just a rock, it always felt like more to me. Disappointed that it was not special, I set it back on my shelf and tried to forget about it. But every so often, I would still eye it, every time I was crushed. Crushed with new realization that I was too old to believe in silly lies. Crushed that I was growing up.
***
It was the first day of Kindergarten. A huge yellow bus clunked down the street, and after my parents took a few pictures, I was off. The bus only had kids my age, and not anyone older than me like my parents had told me there would be. (I later learned this was because only the Kindergarteners rode the bus that day.) I was never afraid, since my parents rode with me on the crowded bus earlier that week. Sitting all by myself, I can’t recall what I was thinking, only that I saw a green house come into view. I saw two little girls. One was my age, standing near the curb, and wearing a green and pink coat covered with flowers and carrying a matching backpack, while the other was very young and watching from the door. The girl my age seemed a little nervous as she conquered the giant stairs, but her nerves changed to confidence as she strolled up to me and stopped.
“I have a birdie egg,” she said to me, holding out a spherical white piece of clay.
“That’s not a birdie egg,” I said back, annoyed. Still, I turned so she could slide in to sit next to the window. She wanted to sit there anyway.
“Yes it is,” she insisted. “I found it.”
“It’s just a piece of clay.” We continued arguing all the way to school, where we stood in separate lines to go to our separate classrooms.
By the time the end of the day rolled around, with our very short attention spans, the girl and I had forgotten all about the argument. After walking to the bus, making sure not to step over the bright green line painted on the sidewalk, I found the same seat I was sitting in that morning empty, and sat down. A few minutes later, the girl came and stood by my seat, waiting for me to turn so she could sit by the window. Little did I know, this would be our routine almost every school day for the next ten years.
***
In second grade, I had decided my birdie egg was still special to me, even if it really was just a rock. Although I don’t remember for sure, I think I became obsessed with it. Or at least, I was playing with it in the sand box in my backyard with my brother, Connor, and babysitter, Ben. I set it on the railing surrounding the sand box. A minute later, it was gone. I started freaking out, since I didn’t know if it dropped into the wood chips surrounding the sandbox, or into the sandbox where Connor was manipulating the sand with his trucks.
“What are you looking for?” Ben asked.
“My birdie egg. I lost my birdie egg! It was sitting right here and now it’s gone!”
I think somehow, he knew what I was talking about. When we couldn’t find it, I started crying.
“It’s okay. Here, I’ll find you another one,” he tried to make the situation better, handing me a small white pebble, half the size of my birdie egg. “But it’s not the same! My birdie egg is bigger and not the same color!” I protested. Nothing could replace the thing, as useless and unimportant it seemed to others, that represented my childhood, my staying young. I didn’t want to give up my birdie egg, didn’t want to lose any more time, didn’t want to grow up.
A few weeks later, when I saw the birdie egg up on my shelf, I was shocked. How did it get there? I ran downstairs, asking my mom if she had found it. I don’t remember her answer, but the important thing was that it was still there. I took the replacement one Ben gave me out of my pocket, and put it on my shelf next to the original one. It is still on my shelf to this day, and will always be, a representation of growing up. At the beginning of junior year, when I realized I wouldn’t be riding the bus with my best friend anymore, it was a rude, aching awakening. Although I knew it all along, it struck me hard that we were growing up. Even though people change as they grow older, there is still that child inside everyone, just slightly hidden (sometimes more securely than others) by layers of new personality and interests. Growing up shouldn’t mean destroying everything that is near and dear to your heart. It instead should mean exploring, trial and error, and new opportunities.
