By Liza Cohen
One day you wake up and you’re 18 and you can’t remember what it feels like to be 13, but you still cry to the same sad songs on a bad day and you look a little older but you don’t really feel it. One day you’re 18 and your family friend, who you call an uncle, is telling you how mature you look (in a non-creepy way) and how you grew a little taller but inside you still remember sitting under the willow tree watching worms squirm in the dirt with no meetings tomorrow and no real work to do and the only thing you can think about is how at 13 you thought at 18 you would have it all and know it all and now you can’t even remember how you got from there to here. But 13 year old you was wrong because you only have and know some things, but not everything.
You know that coffee tastes better when it’s iced and your home is really your parents’ home. You know how to fill the car with gas and that it’s harder to sing again after a breakup. One day, you’re 18 and you’re trying to explain to a 13 year old all of the mistakes you made, so they won’t make them too, when all you really want is for someone to call you out because you still don’t have a clue.