You Haven't Aged A Bit

Thirteen, photo by drew myron

A baker's dozen.

Friday the 13th.

Glasses, pimples, puberty.

Nancy Drew Mystery Series 13: The Mystery of the Ivory Charm.

Thirteen is Bonne Bell Lip Smackers, Brooke Shields, and a swipe of blush. 

Thirteen is shag carpet in a wood-paneled basement, casting nervous glances while playing spin-the-bottle.

Don't you sometimes — in your deepest hidden self — still feel the queasy roil of thirteen?   

Established in 2008, this blog is now 13. Happy birthday! Oh, the agony and joy of turning a teen.

“And so, let’s go,” I wrote in my first post so many years ago, “not with the thunder of the self-absorbed, but in the same way a single word, spoken softly, carries great weight.” 

Still holds true. The more things change, the more they don’t.

Thanks for aging with me. 

I'm happy you're here.