“I wish I was an adult!” I thought to myself after seeing my mom getting ready to leave for work. We lived in what felt like a mansion to my younger self when in reality we lived in a medium-sized 3-bedroom condo in Oconomowoc. We had a Trampoline and some nice neighbors we would hang out with almost daily. Being that young was great, at least for me at this age.
When I was six I wanted to do anything and everything. Why can’t I have a job? Why can’t I go out and do what a six-year-old wants to do? Being six sucked, well it sucked to my six-year-old self. The freedom of being so young was something that I was blind to at six, but really the only thing a 6-year-old was thinking about was either the real world or how many cookies they could put in their mouth at once.
When my mom would leave it was like the world was ending. It felt like prison bars walked up to me and locked me up until she got home. After she walked out the door a woman walked in the door, some would think she was a nice babysitter, but to me, she was the warden of the cell that I was put in. She was a young woman, with brown hair and a little on the larger side. “Why do you look like that?” I asked not knowing the harsh question I just asked. “This kid,” she thought with the expression on her face. “ Look like what Honey?” “ Like a bear.” I laughed and pointed at a picture on the wall of a bear. I could see the frustration on her face like she wanted to strangle me.
“ I'm bored, can we go somewhere?” I asked continuously. “ No, your mother does not want us to leave, go play with your toys.” She replied, getting annoyed more and more. “ When is she going to be home?” I kept asking questions to annoy her. “I don’t know, stop asking so many questions and play with your toys.” She finally snapped.
After what felt like an eternity, my mother finally came back. “How was he?” She asked, smiling at me. “ We had a rough start but he got better.” Smiling at me she waved goodbye and left. The same thing happened every day after that until my mom found out she had been stealing money from my mother's savings cup, my mom fired her and we had to stay at our grandparent's house, which to my six-year-old self felt like heaven instead of prison.
Being 17 I have experienced a lot, from childhood trauma to the thought of being an adult and the responsibilities that come with it. I wish I was six again but I also prefer being where I am now. I will admit being older is great, having my own money, and doing things that I could not do when I was six, but I still would love to be younger, to help get away from the cruelties of the world.