I'm a Lost Boy

It's been two weeks since my grandmother left us.

I spent the afternoon sorting through boxes of my past, and picking through my life. Change hurts. I realized, peering into my childhood face picture after picture, that my world has been mostly unchanged until this point. We've moved a few times, I've grown {a little} out of old shoes, and my favorite color is no longer purple, but the people I've known and the life I've loved has pretty much progressed only through hundreds of meals and many discoveries.

Now my world is changing.

Soon {maybe} my siblings and I will get married, have children, and disperse to far away lands. And loved ones even die.

I used to hate when people would mistake me for being younger than I am {still happens--still hate it}, but I've recently learned growing up hurts.

My mom broke down under the weight of her load today, and I got lost in a picture of me as a toddler--chubby-faced and happy. Then I broke down. First I locked myself in the bathroom. Then I curled up in the dark corner of my brother's bed and cried some more.

I had this aching desire to be a kid again, to just go back to the way things were when the worst thing in my life was cleaning my room.

But I can't.

I need to grow up.

I need {am supposed} to get a job, be responsible, wear a nice face all the time.

I just don't know if I'm ready.

Or maybe I'm just scared.

I miss you Grandma.