I spent a long time at a neighbor's house tonight, seeing an all-redhead family I used to babysit for extensively. It was still really serene and quietly enjoyable, but it was so weird seeing the older girl and finding out she'd finished fifth grade now. I remember the summer after fifth grade as a real crossroads (and not only because da Bone Thugs song was all over the non-oldies-station radio, which I had only recently started to listen to) and so memorable as the start of tweenaged angst. Moving to Canada, sudden self-consciousness regarding my 24/7 bike shorts wearing, exposure to and absorption of non-oldies-station radio, really wishing I'd have a summer romance with a cute boy (which still hasn't happened, at 22), hoping my hair wrap looked cool, and writing a lot in diaries (entries now consisting of more than half a wide ruled page) about all those things.

The girl was still cute and freckly, a bit taller and lankier from what I remembered, but talking faster, sort of politely self-deprecating, talking about how she bought her skirt, and not really rambling on a mile a minute about her happenings (as kids, or portrayals of kids, can go)--in fact, I had to tease some details out of her. AND she was really set on watching 'Don't Forget The Lyrics', attempting to sing along to songs I'm sure she hadn't heard or listened to (in all my time at their house, I never heard, saw, or suspected presence of a radio, and there's definitely no cable).

Man, ages 11-12. There's no going back, for reals.