By Elise Flagg, TIWP Student
I yearn for the day I can tell my kids about my teenage life. About the times that I went to the bay with my best friend and swam next to yachts and under docks going incognito after a lady got mad at us for getting on her giant swan floatie. About the time where I hiked down a cliff to get down to a beach where we spent all of our fourth of July, getting tan and swimming, not caring that police were watching everyone from the top of the cliffs. About the time I went cliff jumping into the ocean, falling so deep in the water I never wanted to come back up. About the time we went tubing and our boat broke down and we were stranded. About the times we drove around town, music blaring grabbing whatever food we craved. About the times we would get dressed up and go out to dinner, just to go sit by the cliffs and look at the stars. About the times we stayed up just talking trying to be quiet, but not being able to because someone just had to laugh. About the times we would meet up with boys at the beach and hang out until midnight. About the times when we would get ice cream every day, usually twice. About the falling off bikes and bursting into laughter. The tide coming up and soaking all of our stuff. About the crazy football games where it was jam packed. About homecoming and rallies. About everything that I have ever experienced as a teenager. Living on the edge. To the fullest. Because I don’t want my kid to ask me what my teenage years were like and for my only answer to be, “Boring” or “Lonely” or “Weird” or even “Wow, that was so long ago.” I want to be able to think back to my teenage years in thirty years and feel the fall of the cliff. The scratches from rocks. The butterflies. The pain. The joy. The love. The pure happiness. I want to feel all of it…Forever.