Acquired Taste

Growing up is an acquired taste.

Sipping grape juice and spitting out leafy things

Giggling at mom’s singing and smiling at strangers

Encountering new parallels that whisper grand inquiries

Where is the velcro on my shoes?

When did books get so thick?

Why do other cars make people so angry?

Mourning a stage of life where words, thoughts, and people had one dimension

Laughing at things that weren’t funny before

Eating leafy things that still taste slightly bad

Getting angry at the ones who did their best to raise you for doing their best to raise you

Wondering why you are still treated as a child

Wishing you could still be a child

Meeting boys who wear too much hair gel and smell as pungent as the fragrance aisle at Macy’s

Is my shirt on backwards?

He’s staring at my braces, isn’t he?

Why are bras so tight?

Waltzing out of the DMV

Driving too fast with friends in the car

Driving too slow with dad in the car

Driving yourself to your high school graduation

Moving into a dorm as large as your closet

When did it get so quiet?

Why did I become a chemistry major? I hate chemistry.

What am I doing?

Losing faith in yourself.

Calling Mom after your first college breakdown

Remembering those who lit the stove for you to blaze

Seeing your future as bright as they see it

Learning to sip bittersweet coffee over grape juice

Calling Mom after your first college success

Still spitting out some leafy things and smiling at strangers

I think I might like it here.