“Just Grow Up,”...

Three little words,

I’ve never heard from my parents.

“Just Grow Up,”

three little words,

I had to tell myself.

“You are no longer Peter Pan,

you can’t chill in the cove with mermaids anymore,

or blow into a pan flute to play a tune,

so Just Grow Up…”

Three little words,

I told myself when my mom got hurt.

Three little words,

I told myself when my little brother needed a role model.

Three little words,

that have haunted me forever.

Adulthood is my phantom,

it leaks through the broken cracks of my childhood filling them in,

a resin that makes me forget what matters to me.

Lucky for me,

I have the cure.

It’s fine to “Just Grow Up.”

I realized this when I hit senior year,

but it’s even better,

in the wise words of Shel Silverstein,

to Grow Down.

Be Peter Pan,

listen to Wendy’s stories,

play the pan flute,

fly high and reach for the second star on the right.

But whatever you do…do not,

“Just Grow Up.”