7th Grade. I am standing in a new school, in a new town, in the smallest state in the United States of America. Awkward. Alone. Self-Conscious. Who wears 7th Grade well? I didn’t. It came with tight jeans, hated hair, insecurities that bred while I slept. I loathed my life and felt oh, so ordinary. I walk into this new school which is to me “the big city”. I feel the eyes upon me. New girl. Awkward magnified. How I wish I felt…special. I ask the teacher what to do, as I swim in a sea of unfamiliar faces and halls and realize I am sinking. Just another face. The teacher is not so sensitive to my current circumstance but busy with a million mundane tasks, distracted. Still, she manages to direct me, only mildly annoyed. I stalk the halls wishing I could escape somehow through crevices in the hallway walls. The angst of one thousand ordinary moments longing to be something more than ordinary.
I watch my daughter scale this period in life. She thinks I have no knowledge of puberty or adolescence. I see her struggle and remember too well the pain of the years. Some get by unscathed. Others, escape by grace, look back, head shaking, relieved that those years are but a temporary season.
Come on over and check in on the writing prompt, write for 5 minutes and join the fun!
Dawn Paoletta is a life enthusiast who loves to juggle words, chug coffee, and journal excessively. You can find her gathering stones on the beach most mornings. She enjoys hanging out with her hubby, daughter and family pets in Narragansett, RI and shares her passion, poetry and prose @Enthusiastically, Dawn.
View more posts