By Doreen Frick
I was fourteen once. I climbed trees; I wrote letters to boys. And I felt a freedom I’ve not felt since. Because when I was fourteen the world was possible. Boys and Nature and Me, and maybe not even in that order.
Fourteen meant that there was still a whole life to live, and I couldn’t wait to live it. Little did I realize that the best of life was when I was climbing that tree, looking out at the world around me, dreaming.
Not planning, just dreaming. No worries. No hurry. Just me and the blue sky and a dream.
I remember fourteen so well! What an age and you’ve captured it.
Nice reflection of carefree days and the what we left behind.
My recollection is not as clear as yours, but I do believe that at one time we may have shared similar dreams.
Well written and well paced. Let your dreams flow and continue to express them with your poetic writing.
14–a truly magical age. I recall looking forward to high school–while still savoring what was left of my summer vacation! I wasn’t looking forward to any great things happening, and might have been somewhat afraid of what the future might bring–not that I let that stand in the way of my freedom! Liked this story a lot.
What hapoened to teenage angst: Am I smart enough, tall enough, popular enough? Can I make the swim team, will I get invited to the next party, will I get chosen first or last at the next pickup game?
Am I ever going to get rid of these zits?
And when will Noona stop kissing me..?
14 again? Nah….!! To