And another year makes . . . .

22. I could go on and on about how I'm "old" and that this birthday doesn't really mean anything. Of course, 21 for a Mormon girl doesn't really mean much anyway - I don't drink. But the fact that time seems to be racing by me, now that's something to think about. I've accomplished a lot in my 22 years. I have a high school diploma, a BA in English from a well-respected private university, I've been accepted for graduate school in the UK, I've finished my first novel (though still working on editing it), presented at a literature conference, I bought my first car, built a pretty good resume, and made a great number of friends. The list could go on and on. When you put it all together like that, the years seem longer. Or like they should be longer. It's just crazy how fast life passes you by.

I can seriously remember feeling like a little kid. Teenager seems to resonate within me a little more, and that may be why I like YA fiction. But I look at pictures or just sit and think and I can remember those days. A lot of my little kid memories have to do with my grandpa, my mom's dad. I can still remember climbing up to sit on his shoulders for one. And when I say climbing, I mean literally crawling up the poor man's body. I remember sitting on his lap and making up stories to this ridiculous picture book that was pink-toned and had pictures of monkeys. When I think about those times, I sort of feel like I am still there.

Sure, I would love to not have responsibilities like a little kid. With bills, grad school costs, and life-changing decisions weighing on me, it would be nice to have the hardest decision of my day to be which book to get from the library. Or whether or not climbing that tree is a good idea (it usually wasn't, FYI). I think we all escape into those moments and memories of innocence.

Of course, childhood wasn't easy like we all want to remember. I can remember several nights falling asleep crying because I had gotten in trouble for something (probably talking back - shockingly, it happened a lot). I know I had a hard time with sleep even as a kid because I used to listen to my grandmother's music box under my pillow to help me fall to sleep (under my pillow so it wouldn't bug Kellan cause we shared a room). I remember all too clearly getting picked on because I wasn't a girly girl and I couldn't put my own hair into a ponytail until about sixth grade. Or seventh. Something ridiculously late like that.

I guess I'm thinking about this because I'm getting older, but also because I have so many little children entering my life. My nephew, Owen Bernd VanSkiver (unless otherwise decided upon), is due within just a few weeks. My "niece" Sophia just turned 2 (and she is the cutest little girl ever!), and a few of my friends are expecting or just had their own little ones. Such as cute lil' George Busby. With all these kids entering the world, it makes me think on being a kid myself and my own kids someday. You want little children to lead this innocent life. You want them to not have to worry with you as job loss becomes a reality or a marriage hits a rough patch as they all do at some point. But the thing is, should you really desire to protect them from everything?

A pessimistic viewpoint would be, life sucks - they'll figure it out. But really, is innocence possible or even desirable? Ok, maybe innocence isn't the right word. Perhaps naivete. Struggles and trials are an everyday part of life. While we'd like to shield ourselves from that reality, it's impossible. I'm not saying to throw your children to the wolves, but there's a certain point when protection becomes impossible and undesirable.

How does this even remotely tie in with what I started talking about? I don't know. Sometimes my fingers just go without my mind being able to catch up. But really, birthdays tend to make everyone nostalgic. My childhood wasn't hard by any means, though I certainly had trials. I will say that just my nature probably made me more naive to some of the problems we faced as a family and what those problems entailed. But I know that I'm a stronger person because I wasn't shielded from things. Maybe my mom intended to hide us away, but she didn't do a very good job if she did. :) I witnessed a lot of things while growing up that I could probably do without if I had a choice. Getting shot in the leg with a BB gun, taking a hockey puck to the face, and getting hit over the head with a hammer are a few of the things I think I could live without having in my past. But in a way, all of those things made me stronger. It might be why I can post pictures of the gnarly bruises I get and laugh at them. Even still, it makes you emotionally stronger. We all hate the problems that come up in our lives, but wouldn't life be so much more boring if everything were easy?

You're going to want to disagree with that. But just think back to some of the memories that resonate the most within you, the ones that you feel define you as who you are. I'll bet you money you wouldn't have those attributes without a struggle to get there first. Unless there's a secret to life my parents neglected to teach me . . . . .