Dear Sixteenth,
You’re fast approaching, and I don't know
if I'm ready.
I want you to know that I'm doing my best
to prepare for you.
I'm studying hard for that permit test,
planning intensely for that big party,
preparing to jump into the most rigorous year of high school.
My only fear is once you come,
you'll be gone just like that.
Dear Eighteenth,
You mark the end and start of it all.
No longer a minor or underage.
We're free to adult, rule it all,
mess it up, independently fall.
I imagine myself taller, fuller, more like our mom.
A young adult coming into the world
with her hands ready to grasp it all.
My only fears are that if I make a mistake,
it could end up bigger than me,
and that once you come,
you'll be gone just like that.
Dear Twenty-Third,
Will you look like
what I’ve imagined.
A fully grown and graduating,
colorful, expressive African American.
Watch out world, a hard-working woman,
young and free and left on her own
to really rule it all.
No more college nonsense.
No more classes, no more drama, no more childhood.
You are in total control of yourself.
Time to sit down and work,
and prove to those who doubted you
that you're more than a broke, barista blogger.
My only fears are that if I never truly make it out there,
I'll get stuck in a devastating cycle,
and that once you come,
you'll be gone just like that.
Dear Thirtieth,
I’ve heard rumors
that this is where stability starts.
The crazy twenties finally close the curtains
and you begin to know who and what you are.
Peace of mind is easier and budgets are less tight.
Would I have found my own and where to go?
Will adventure entice me and lead me off?
I'm thinking now to hold kids off until you,
would I have held fast with this?
I want to say I'll be happy and fulfilled,
but this is where my future is pretty hazy.
My only fears are how I will hold onto my youth
and never forget my childhood friends, family, or home,
and that once you come,
you'll be gone just like that.
Dear Fiftieth,
I can’t process reaching you.
You’re still so far yet fast approaching.
What would I have by you?
My own family? Would I start one?
Am I married? Am I happy?
I hope the mid-life crisis treated you right,
assuming it's already ended.
Watch the possible kids pass sixteen
and pray for them.
Pray life treats them right.
I pray it does them as I hope it does to me.
I may not ever even have them,
but I already love them dearly.
I hope as my body slows down
and my mortality sets in,
I have someone there to bring me smiles
day after day.
My only fears are how I will deal with everything and everyone
that I must have lost by now,
and that once you come,
you'll be gone just like that.
Dear Seventieth,
Please be careful.
That many years on your bones can’t be easy.
Your possible kids could possibly be having kids--
it’s so crazy.
I don't know which boggles my mind more--
the uncertainty of it all or the possible grandparenthood.
You’re losing touch,
the current kids seem a million miles away.
They've developed their own culture
that's vastly different than the early 21st century.
But it’s okay.
Just sit back and watch.
Ask questions if you will,
the grandkids will answer you every day.
They’ll laugh with you and guide you the whole way.
My only fears are how I will deal with my body shutting itself down,
year by year,
and that once you come,
you'll be gone just like that.
Dear Ninetieth,
Will I even reach?
Mortality’s something I’d always avoid.
But there’s no denying at this point.
I'm at death's door.
But it's okay.
Ninety years is a good run,
an outstanding run.
My only fear is that once you come,
you'll be gone just like that.
Let's hope there's still someone there
to hold my hand.
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