Lindsey Taylor

My mom was a teen mom. In the early 80’s, it wasn’t as mainstream as it is today to have a baby at 16 years old. Nonetheless, it happened and she prospered with a little infant to boot. I digress because as I get older, I realize how easy it is to get lost in labels and roles. To me, I’ve seen her hardships, but never asked how she felt about certain things. Although I could panic at any given moment that I thought she was in danger, I never asked her how she truly felt about, well, anything. Now I know that she is more than a mom, she is a woman with feelings, insecurities, and struggles.

Even today it is hard to break through that barrier that holds me back from understanding who my mom is as a person. This might sound silly, and I know she is a good mom, and was always a good provider. I’ve never once thought I missed out on anything as a kid, my childhood was full of love and fun. I have a ton of wonderful memories, nothing that would make me feel that I had an unfortunate childhood.

That’s why this post is so important because my mom has taken to giving me things that provide a nostalgia that can bring me to tears. For example, a Kool-Aid pitcher and cup set from when I was young. I mean, how great is it to share a relic from my childhood with my kids who will realize I am a person with thoughts and feelings until they are well into their adult years?

The other day she gave me a paper she wrote for school when she was 13! Can you believe it? My mom was an age before 16 when I was born and changed who she was forever. The paper is yellowed with age from 1979, the penmanship is so familiar, the words fill me with joy as if roles could be reversed and I was the one to care for this sweet 13-year-old student who had such strong opinions about her age.

She won a Certificate of Merit for this piece of self-reflection, as a contribution to the Writer’s Fair for her school. I wonder if her mind went past this letter after a few years toward a life that would be filled with love and fear for a baby? I wonder if she thought 14 was a sour age? I wonder what she thinks now?

I am going to share the paper in full, please enjoy as much as I did and do, there are many gems in this piece, well beyond the years of a 13-year-old girl, maybe 14 or 15.

Being Thirteen

Being thirteen is hard in a way because it seems like you never get old or your friend are just getting older and there you are still thirteen years old. It’s sure not easy.

One of the main reasons why I don’t like being thirteen is that when I do something wrong my mom always compares me to her when she was thirteen. She’s always telling me that when she was thirteen she never got to do anything and she says we always get to do everything. I’ll admit I do get to do a lot, but no all the time. She tells me she never got a bike till she was sixteen and I got one when I was eleven.

I just don’t understand parents sometimes they are always comparing me with them. I probably have already said this but it’s the truth. Another thing is that when she sees some of my friends and they’re acting really sweet (which they really don’t when noone is around) my mom will even compare me with them. She’ll tell me “Why can’t you act like they do?” Like they’ve been sent straight from Angelville to get back at me.

Most of the time I am doing a little wrong but they don’t have to throw it back at me through my friends. I guess the only reason they do it is because they were unhappy as children and they got to do as much as we do now. Take my advice try to be an agel and please your parents.

Jamie Taylor

Writer’s Fair

April 19, 1979