I have this book idea. I have no idea if it’s any good. But it’s a story I created in my brain, and I wanted to see what happened. Since I turned *muffled sound*, I have been analyzing the world differently. I am not where I wanted to be in my life.
No. I shouldn’t say that. There are many things I would tell my ten-year-old self if I could. And she would be overjoyed.
Me: Hey, Marteen! Did you know you own every stuffed Care Bear from the 1980’s?
Little Me: Really??? But I thought adults didn’t play with Care Bears.
Me: Small one, fuck what everyone tells you. You will be a much happier person if you stop listening to what everyone else’s view of your world should be, and start listening to what you want.
Little Me: Wow. Do I say fuck a lot?
Me: You sure do. But back to Care Bears. They relaunch the line for their anniversary, so you bought all of those. Well, you’re missing a couple, but you have so many Care Bears they circle an entire room. And then some.
Little Me: WOW! That’s fucking awesome!
Me: Uuuuuuuh, don’t let our mother hear you say that until you’re thirty.
Little Me: Wow. Thirty is old.
Me: It’s not that old. You get your first tattoo on your 30th birthday.
Little Me: I GET A TATTOO?!?!??! WHY?????
Me: Well, it becomes a popular fashion statement. Kinda like piercing your ears.
Little Me: Wow. That’s a serious way to express yourself. (Looks suspicious.) What did you . . . I . . . get? Do I like it? Did it hurt?
Me: Yes, you like it. A lot. You got three more.
Little Me: THREE?!?!??
Me: Yeah, they’re addictive. You got this one on your shoulder, it’s a little heart with a crescent moon. Then you got this one on with hearts and scrolls on your lower back . . . . fuck anyone who calls it a tramp stamp . . .
Little Me: A what?
Me: Never mind. Then you went through a really rough patch after you get divorced . . .
Little Me: (Horrified) Divorced? But I don’t want to make that mistake.
Me: (Putting my arm around the little girl’s shoulder) Sweet girl, you will make mistakes. You are human. You will beat yourself up over them. You STILL . . . I still beat myself up over them. But we are human. Humans make mistakes. How would we even learn what we like or who we are if we don’t try other things first?
Little Me: I guess.
Me: How interesting would the world be if we always made the right choices first?
Little Me: (Ponders this) It would be dull.
Me: Exactly.
Little Me: (eyes sparkling) I do love interesting things.
Me: (hugging the long-haired little girl ferociously) That, my sweet girl, will never change.
I would then go on to tell her that she is the proud parent of five cats and three dogs. That she does not have a white wall or piece of beige carpeting anywhere in the house. That she spray-painted graffiti in her dining room. That she buys stuffed animals all the time and donates them later to various charities at Christmas.
I would tell her that she spent many years trying to be someone she wasn’t . . . all in the interest of paying bills and making money. And when she released that – when she decided she owed it to herself to be completely true to herself and only do the things she loved . . . all that bill stuff and money stuff and financial worry that grownups deal with and stress themselves literally to death over . . .
Disappeared.
I would tell her all those times she cried, all those times she punched holes in the wall, that time she sat on the floor and screamed for a solid two hours in the throes of a nervous breakdown were not in vain. That she would get through it. That she would emerge from the other side stronger and more . . . .
Wait a damn minute.
If I went back in time and told my ten-year-old self that, none of it would happen.
She’d spend all her time looking to the future and knowing what happens, would be comforted in that.
And HALF THE REASON I am who I am is because of all that heartbreak and sorrow.
Well fuck.
I have to tell her something.
Me: Hey Marteen, did you know you grow up and collect Care Bears?
Little Me: Really??? But I thought adults didn’t play with Care Bears.
Me: I do. You do. Well, you collect them.
Little Me: That’s cool.
Me: It is, isn’t it?
Little Me: (Grins and nods.)
Me: Say, you remember that time you were playing with your Legos in the living room, and you heard your parents talking in the kitchen? They were talking about boring adults stuff like bills and things?
Little Me: Of course. That happened last week.
Me: Of course. What did you promise yourself?
Little Me: I looked down at my Legos, and realized one day I would be old. I would have bills and adult things to deal with, and I would forget what it was like to be a child. And I promised myself – I swore over that pile of Legos – that I would NEVER forget what it was like to be a child. That I would always remember that feeling, and always love things like Legos and stuffed animals and keep that part of myself always. (She looks me straight in the eyes.) Did I?
Me: Well, I remember that conversation with myself, don’t I?
Little Me: (Grins)
Me: I’ve lived my life by that. And despite the things – good and bad – in my life, I love who I am. And I never ever forgot that. I still have those Legos, you know.
Little Me: Well of course. Why would you get rid of them?
Me: Because adults throw away their toys. Or they get tired of them and sell them at garage sales. And to be honest, the Legos are so old they don’t fit together very well anymore.
Little Me: (Slightly sadly) That’s too bad.
Me: It is. But do you know what my . . . your future fiancé got you for Christmas this year?
Little Me: I dunno, jewelry or something?
Me: (Grins) A Cloud City Princess Unikitty Lego Playset.
Little Me: (eyes wide) NO WAY? Who’s Princess Unikitty?
Me: It’s a long story. Guess what the first thing I built was?
Little Me: Everything on the package instructions?
Me: Yup. Guess what the second was?
Little Me: A CASTLE!
Me: A castle.
Little Me: I like old me.
Me: I’m not that old, little one. (sticks out my tongue)
Little Me: Wanna go build Lego castles?
Me: I thought you’d never ask.
Marti Kole 