“I think I hear a gun!” My brother said.
My nine-year-old cousin and nine-year-old me decide that we must explore the now “crime-scene” of a hotel. It was only logical, right?
So we spent nights scared out of our minds and trying to find the murder. We thought he was taking victims into utitlity rooms and killing them off. No logic, no proof, no plan, two nine-year-olds began there search.
Did we find anything? Of course not.
All we found was:-
an unlocked utility room (which scared us to death!)
a guy who scarred us for life (LOL, only my cousin will know)
weird markings on the ceiling in my hotel room
a lifetime of memories
the fact that we weren’t supposed to leave the third floor of the hotel.
We searched for our murderer, played an ongoing game in the pool, had so much fun cleaning her room, played with mermaid toys in the bathtub (both wearing swimsuits, of course), and I cried the day we left her state.
This is what I miss now. The perfect, fun, amazing, innocence of child hood.
Me and my cousin are all grown up now. (Well, 14.)
But with growing up comes new memories.
When I was nine-years-old, I didn’t go shopping with friends, play underground church outside in the dark, and plan to meet pen pals. I didn’t dream about my wedding during study hall or play video games with friends for hours.
Growing up doesn’t mean leaving the young part of you behind. It means taking that part and adding on. Deep down I’m still a nine-year-old chasing a murderer that I really knew wasn’t real, deep down. (But if I acted like that now, I would probably be looked down on :D). I mean there’s still a tiny part of me that wants to crawl into my parents bed during a thudnerstorm. But now the outer shell is an author who is trying to figure out her life.
“Maturity is a bitter disapointment for which no remedy exsists, unless laughter could be said to remedy anything.”
“If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I’ll never grow up! Not me!”