I have memories of laying in my bed,
Beneath the Bobby Jack monkey covers.
My head rested on the backboard with roses,
The pace of my mom's breathing was a comforting sound to me
As her nimble fingers would pinch and scratch my back
I would drift to sleep.

And as I grew older
My bedtime ritual no longer required three people
I stopped begging my dad to sit at the foot of my bed
The thick books translated to Spanish  
With magical endings and happy characters got dusty
There were only the prints of my dad's big hands turning the pages
And the remembrance of my eyelids flickering
Attempting to stay awake so that I could hear again how Cinderella got her Prince Charming

The bedtime stories stopped and I didn’t remember when they’d begun
A dip formed at the corner of my bed where my dad had sat but I didn’t want the extra space
I started sleeping with my back to the wall and the coolness was my new comfort
I didn’t really have to hear what would happen if you gave a mouse a cookie, right?
The stories stay the same anyway.
The breathing of three became one
Meditation music flew through the air
So I learned a new way to swim into the oceans of deep sleep.

One night my mom slept with me again
I wanted to remember what bedtime was like before I forced myself to grow up.
She reached to pinch my back
The single apple that had been my daily breakfast didn’t give much to pinch
And the skin on my back didn’t seem so much of a protectant more so needed to be protected

What no one tells you about growing up
Is that it happens at its own pace
Yet I still felt the need to paint my toenails the hottest pink
And switch my Bobby Jack covers for the blue one with the pink butterflies.
Colored lipgloss the scent of strawberries
Replaced the cinnamon Lip smackers
I forced myself to grow up

Counting on my fingers for math homework
Became counting calories on a tracker that made unhealthy eating habits seem appetizing
Growing up made my mouth water more than sweets
And being cool with an iPod made me think of myself as a twelve-year old-icon

Growing takes time but you’ll get there
No need for the rush to be someone bigger or stronger
And when stuck in traffic take the time to think and ponder the beauty in the world  
As expected I grew up without anticipating it to happen so quickly
Now the real question is would you willingly choose to waltz into growing up blind-sighted?
Or had you been waiting for so long that if you were to rub a magic lamp and get three wishes all three would be to grow up?

I remember the Bobby Jack monkey covers
If only I had created a cocoon with the soft polyester and waited until it was my turn to burst into a beautiful butterfly.