I miss being a little kid. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm still young, and that I still have a crapload of time in this world. But I miss being little. I miss my oldest brother Luther always being either in the floor below me or the house behind me. I miss telling my second-oldest brother Ben that he puts bananas in his chilli, and I miss him eating straight, dry chilli peppers, then drinking milk, then throwing up. I miss being 7 years old and telling m third-oldest brother Jesse that 9th grade geometry is super easy and that he needed to stop complaining. I miss doing absolutely everything with my closest brother Mitch, walking up to the Dollar Tree, buying candy, rollerblading on the backporch, him being my only and best friend. I miss my dad kissing me goodbye every morning before he went out into the dangerous world of librarian-being. I miss me and my brothers demanding my mother make us Tubby Custard, then her slaving about to make it, then us telling her it was disgusting.
I miss being able to fake sleeping in order to have my dad carry me around everywhere. I miss the parents that I had that didn't think I hated them, the ones that would call me 'pumpkin' and 'missy moo' and 'sister susie sassifrass'.
And I never thought I'd say this - but I have even been reflecting on the most terrorizing day of my life, the day that I locked myself in the bathroom when I was about 3 or 4 years old. A day that has affected me so much that even now I am afraid of locking bathroom doors. I remember running out of the bathroom and jumping into my Aunt Elaine's arms and having her hug me and tell me everything was going to be okay. And I totally believed her, because I was only 3 years old and there was never a time that everything wasn't going to be okay.
Good times.