“In the days of my youth, I was told what it means to be a man.” Poetic. Though I’m not male, so I was told to take accounting in school instead.
Now that I’m twenty, it’s all over. I’m no longer a teenager, I’m a proper adult. I’ve been away from home for a while, and as much as I enjoy that, I still reminisce about the banana cake days of childhood. How I miss my Lego set, with the flowers and mismatching pieces from second-hand sets and the treasure chests from Harry Potter ones. As an only child, many people think I was deprived of invaluable experiences. While I will never know if that’s true, I think I had some good times freaking my mum out by playing on the stove.
We moved house a lot when I was younger. From Olympia to Seattle, Portland to New Braunfels, Austin to Waiwera, Whangaparaoa to Nelson. So naturally, they decided to homeschool me. Big mistake! Just kidding, I actually learned a lot. It was pretty great, I could get up about ten, draw until noon, have some lunch, do a little chemistry, go back to the felt tips. I learned how to cook, too. My mum taught me how to make doughnuts. Special! If I weren’t too lazy to make nice food I would certainly be livin’ the good life.
However, as I type this I’m sat in bed, listening to Led Zep, scattering crumbs from a delicious lemon tart into my keyboard. How am I going to get those out? I don’t know. Maybe shake it upside-down or use the vacuum. How am I going to reclaim my lost childhood years? I don’t know. Climb more trees possibly. Wear ugly yet practical shoes. The prospects are much more desolate.
I’d like to think though I don’t run everywhere anymore, I still have some childlike glee left in me. I would rather eat cake than vegetables. I often do. But I know I should eat them. Why does childhood always come back to eating vegetables?
Necia Johnston
wro@vuwsa.org.nz