Conflict is often started with changes, and sometimes, the best of times are brought on or incite change.
Change is a very conflicting thing. Often I find myself changing my mind about how I feel about change.
I feel the change in the way they look at me.
They do not see that bubbly little girl with crooked teeth and frizzy brown hair that got caught in rays of sunshine playing basketball until the moon pushed me inside for dinner.
They do not see that girl who was so unpredictably silly and rocking back and forth in her own mood swings.
They do not see that girl who was hidden behind books, begging not to have to take the first bath, or crawling in Daddy’s lap when I got dumped the first time.
They do not see that girl that was scared of failure and always lonely and looking for love in all the wrong places.
I do not see that girl anymore either,
but I can’t tell if I miss her, or who I was to them or myself.
I’m the one Dad said was “pretty self sufficient” to my sister when they thought I wasn’t listening.
I’m the one Mom is not ready to let go of and finding any way to keep me home and not forget that she was my first best friend.
I’m the one my sister looks up to and proudly reads her works to her friends with pride in her eyes and amazement in her voice.
So is change what I want?
Of course I want to grow up. I want to make my own decisions without the enormous pressures of what will happen when Mom and Dad find out.
I love what I have with my sister, the constant dialogue doomed to be repeated for years: “Don’t tell Mom and Dad please,” and “Holy crap, they’re gonna be so pissed! I promise I won’t say a word.”
I do miss what we had though. I miss the days Dad had to work late or had school after work where he left just us girls at home.
The night filled the halls of our home with giggles and the sounds of movies we just “have to see!”
I miss playing basketball with Dad and Emily in the front yard while Mom played the one man audience.
I even miss the days when Dad was scary, but found room enough for me in his heart to share a tear and an ear when talking to me about my future and how I felt.
Changes never stop.
They come in the good days and the bad.
They take away all that is bad and you find yourself searching for change frantically.
They rip away the good and you find yourself clinging to what you have left. I can’t tell if these changes are what
I want, what I need, or what naturally must come.
They have to happen, and I know from changes past that it is not
the reality that matters; it is your perspective.
But I just can’t assess my emotions anymore.