When she’s 11 she climbs trees and splashes in mud puddles and runs races in the pouring rain. When she’s 11 she thieves apples from the neighbor’s tree and puts earthworms in the neighbor boy’s hair and she laughs because nothing has ever felt so free.

When she’s 11 she builds forts. She topples couches and ransacks closets for sheets and blankets and sleeping bags. And then she fills the living room with imagination until it becomes a jungle that can only be crossed if she slithers through on her belly like a snake.

When she’s 11 she lives each moment fully and she looks forward toward the adventures she is sure will be waiting for her at ages 12 and 13.

And at age 11 she can’t imagine beyond that because then there is high school and surely that is so. far. away.

But at age 11 the future looms vast and oh so bright that sometimes it hurts her eyes, but even that is exciting.

–

At age 11 she falls from a tree and it hurts and she falls from the monkey bars and that hurts too. But at age 11 she doesn’t let these things stop her because at age 11 she still remembers that not-so-long ago she learned how to walk and she still remembers what it was to fall down and get up and fall down again.

At age 11 she isn’t afraid of falling and she still dreams of flying and sometimes when she wakes up in the night she jumps from her bed because she’s still half-convinced that if she could just jump high enough she might discover her wings.

And at age 11 maybe she’s just starting to doubt because she’s done a lot of jumping and climbing and falling and maybe she’s struggling just a little to hold onto that hope.

But at age 11 she’s still trying, just in case maybe this time is the first time she’s right.

 

Author’s note: If you’d like to hear this piece in my own voice, check out the video below!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nERX7ijZJbQ&list=UUaSxUNXZlcurR4VKBdOc-vQ

As always, I’d love to hear from you! Let me know what you think of this poem in the comments below! (And if you liked it, please share!)