My niece, she's 15.
Fifteen.
I remember the day she was born.
Her first words. First steps.
I remember running on a broken foot down the hallway to her when she was 5 months old and had rolled off the bed.
I remember walking her to kindergarten every day. And when she practiced, and eventually sang girls just want to have fun, in grade four to win the fake American idol talent show they had.
Fifteen.
We haven't really hung out much since she become a card carrying member of the socially conscious. But we spent the day together today.
I learned how smart she is. How self aware, how socially aware, and how fragile she still is.
We saw the Katy Perry movie. Which, truthfully, made me happy. Because she's still young enough to enjoy the campy-ness. And it was fun having her to get excited with, because lord knows she's probably the only person I know who would actually see it with me, let alone be excited about it.
Fifteen.
I had five tattoos by her age. A drug problem and my first diagnoses of depression.
I hope for her sake, life is easier and more gentle towards her.
Fifteen. God.