childhood left behind

To recall the times where we stumbled laughing across the carpet of the room with brown towels thrown over our shoulders, tripping over the long folds, but still holding head high up, in childish attempt to be like the grown ups who walk down the wedding aisle. We took turns, or did we not, to be the bride with the long train - brown flannel towels yet through the eyes of a child with excited imagination transform into white silk - and the groom waiting in front. I think rachel always wanted to be the groom, or something to that effect.

And we played house, under tables and chairs in the church office with the other girls, innocently pretending to have children, bringing them home. Squeals of delighted laughter could be heard from the office every Sunday around noon as we busied ourselves trying to be older. We got scolded once, for making too much noise. I remember being scolded, vividly, in the car journey home. But the plays continued, nothing could stop our imagination. Not even the grown ups.

Rachel always orchestrated our play. I remember her telling each person where to go, and i obeyed, meekly. For after all, she was a January child, i was a December kid. When you are aged less than the 10 fingers on your 2 hands, 11 months nearly a year, is as great as a century.

Now, nearly 10 years down, we are older, almost twice as old, and sadly wiser. Weddings take on new meaning. The prospect of children in homes too. Not too far away it seems, yet we push it further, not wanting to be drawn into the grown up world that is fast approaching, too fast.

A necessity? Perhaps. Aye, the circle of life.

-erica