Growing up and growing out,

Out of my childhood home,

Out my children's shoes,

And out of my childish ways,

Childhood is a front row seat

Seen from your dad’s shoulders 

Because walking is no fun.

Growing up is gasping for air while your tears cloud your eyes,

Sobbing because you are too big to be carried.

Maturity is realizing 

That one day your dad will need you 

To carry him.

Childhood is naive and gullible.

It is getting tricked by your older brother.

Growing up is seeing that 

Sometimes he is wrong.

He can make mistakes,

Brainiac and all.

Maturity is learning that sometimes being wrong

Is better than being right,

Choosing humility over pride.

Childhood is missing your grandma,

Counting down the days until 

You will feel

Her warmth

Her hugs

And her love of Chili's.

Growing up is seeing that she is growing up with you,

Birthday by birthday,

Christmas by Christmas. 

You are in it together,

Because maturity is realizing you don't have eternity with her.

It is fearing that she won't be able to meet your kids or see your wedding.

Growing up is family.

It is your loving mother, hilarious dad, smarty-pants brother, and warm-hearted grandma.

But maturity is all me.

Growing up and growing away from who I once was.

Going and going and going until I am gone.

Until I don’t recognize that self because I am a new self.

I am are suddenly the product of lessons I learned.