Grown

by Tiffany D. Jackson

“Pull down your shirt, baby,” Mom mumbles, yanking my top. “Don’t want these grown men looking at what you got.”

Trying to reclaim your life is a lot like drowning. You attempt to stay above water as waves of new information hit you sideways, carrying you further into the unknown. People throw life preservers, but the ropes can only reach so far, and once a riptide catches you by the ankle, all you can do is wonder why you ever thought you’d be OK jumping into the deep end, when you could barely manage the shallows.