I remember when life was mine.
When it was full of whatever I pleased.
Laughter. Ice-cream. Swing sets.
The little white flowers that grew in bunches
that you would pick in your youth.

I remember when I was whole.
When my mom and I
had matching outfits, and
when we would sit on the
porch steps with my sister.

I remember when the future
was my present, and how I stressed
every single day
over how I could make tomorrow
happen today.

I remember everything before growing up,
but not a thing about being grown up
because I am in this awkward in-between stage.
Where nothing makes sense,
but everything happens and you remember it.