Old ballet shoes,
Yearbooks with letters wedged into the cracks promising friendship until the end of time.

The yearbook signatures that promised to call or catch up,
and the signatures that actually should have ended with "good bye".

Children's books and children's clothing,
Tiny t-shirts and itty bitty shorts.

Ticket stubs and concert tickets,
ID cards and senior portraits.

Long lost poetry and crinkled letters
To boys I thought I'd love beyond the time I did.

Photographs of us in our youth
And some of us apart, outgrowing each other.

Homework from freshman year,
Art projects I thought deserved life beyond the magnets on the kitchen fridge.

Baby blankets and old rosaries
for when I thought Jesus could keep my faith in all that's good.

Books I haven't read in years
that still make me smile when I roll my fingers down the spine.

My grandpa's memorial announcement
and his old fishing hat.

The CD's we used to make dances to,
and perform for ourselves in my old costumes.

Friendship bracelets from girl's names I can't remember,
and friendships I lost
Numerous diaries with long entries about being older,
and how someday older will be better,

How age will bring me adventure, maturity, love, resolution, clarity, a sense of myself, happiness.
Here I am with more age, and these endless memories make me wish for the time when I could still fit into the little shorts and stick my tongue out in pictures.

The someday I wrote of is today
and I'm teary-eyed over what used to be.

I'm missing the old you and the old memories,
the old friends and the old ways of happiness.

I'm here, older now,
and I wish I knew if older was better.