Ten is many things. I remember ten, perhaps too clearly, because of events that happened that year that would unravel and reravel my life into something new. But this time I get to see ten from the outside.
Ten is a kid, pushing and pulling with a younger brother.
Ten is grown, trying to console him when he’s bereft.
Ten is a child, making silly jokes.
Ten is old, catching every last child-inappropriate comment that leaves your mouth.
Ten is young, asking questions about everything she sees.
Ten is wise, knowing not to make eye contact with crazy people on the street.
Ten is wee, small enough to hold hands with while we walk.
Ten is street smart, leads me around a city I don’t know.
p.s. she is actually ten and a half
p.p.s. we are going to a trampoline place today. I cannot promise to return safely, but will certainly try.