Thirteen

There’s a backstory, a story and side story on this one.

The Backstory:

Do you remember being thirteen? The swarming/fluxing, irrational, sometimes manic, feelings of emancipation/uncertainty mixed liberally with bravado/timidity? Alternating levels of adultness and childishness?

Thirteen is a special kind of rite of passage and very few humans get to sail through without at least some kind of challenge to angst filled change. Mostly rising hormones are to blame but there’s also a large dose of the fledgling syndrome added to the fray - little bird compelled to try its wings with gusto and share with the world everything it’s gotten thus far.

As long ago as it was, (let’s skip the jokes about the Dark Ages please) I do recall the year I survived being thirteen. And because I am old I can also recount living through two more seasons of thirteen via my own children and then yet again through theirs - for pete’s sake! 

Times change, culture shifts, words and perceptions are redefined, but thirteen is something of a predictable unavoidable test, I think. However, in this super hyper connected, digital world, I fear it is tougher now than it used to be. There are treacherous conditions I didn’t have to deal with as I was navigating through the uncharted waters just beyond the safe harbor of childhood that today’s young teens must be prepared for. Most are not prepared, though, because thirteen sneaks up on you, for one thing, and young kids are exposed to so much nowadays they give off the illusion of being older than their years long before thirteen appears so there’s a blindspot. 

I don’t know where this is going or how it will end. I just know that the poet/lyricist in me wanted to call out and focus on all that being thirteen is.  

The Side Story:

Sometimes, when you are doing something, a serendipitous moment happens, that thing you didn’t plan but it inserts itself on its own as though it was part of the process all along. 

One day, working on this project, I was recording a practice run with my ukulele and just as I hit record, a mockingbird, sitting on the chimney, started its repertoire. I didn’t mind, since it was just a practice run. But then when I played it back I was stunned how well it fit - I do love serendipity because sometimes it’s better than anything you could think of on your own. 

So, here’s the story - Thirteen - A Lullaby

you were there for just a moment

though it seemed to last forever

there was too much and then not enough

every kind of now or never

you were bursting full of fearless

though you often seemed unsteady

there was all you knew and didn’t

and those days you weren’t so ready  - ‘cause

thirteen’s just a number

in the middle of beginning

not old enough to stand alone

just a glimpse of things still pending

you were sure you had the answers

you believed in your own reason

but the questions left in silence

waited for another season  

thirteen’s just a number

in the middle of beginning

not old enough to stand alone

one foot steady           

one foot bending

For Him,

Meema