Teenage Wasteland

On my new route to work these days, I pass this little girl waiting for the bus. Some days, there's a large orange and white cat sunning itself next to her, or purring while she pets it. Judging by the time I drive by (approximately 8am), my guess is that she's in middle school... maybe 14 years old. She's a little bit of a bigger girl - certainly not "fat", but not rail-thin either - with thick, dark hair and glasses. Today when I drove by, she seemed sad. I'm not sure what gave me that impression... maybe it was the way she was carrying herself, or looking down at the ground. She reminded me of how excruciatingly painful that stage of life can be. I looked at her and thought of myself at that age, and I wondered if we ever know how we'll end up as adults. I was a painfully nerdy, awkward kid. Braces, glasses, I loved to read and play with animals... I don't know that I ever really thought I'd grow up to be the person I am today. I wonder if our parents see it in us - if we will one day see it in our own children... the glimmer of the potential human at the end of the long, awkward road.

I thought about the girl the whole way to work this morning. She seems tall for her age. My guess is that as she grows up, she'll lose her teenage awkwardness and become a pretty stunning young woman. If she survives middle school, that is. I wonder if these are the kinds of things our parents saw in us as we battled through our painful teenage years? More importantly, when she finally does become that person, what will she see when she looks in the mirror at 27, at 30? Will she see the woman she has become, or will she see herself at 14? I know there are many days when I still see the teenager, and often wonder how other people can possibly see anything else. Does that ever truly fade, I wonder?