By Shania Jin

I was born a kicking, crying baby, like most. My mom cradles me, exhausted. The nurse places me in a tub of water, and I calm down immediately. She gives me a diaper and then pulls out a baby blanket. The nurse is giving my dad details on how to swaddle for me as she demonstrates. I seem very upset to finally be a part of this world, opening my mouth and shrieking in high-pitched notes. I suppose I have been musical since birth.

It’s my first birthday, a single candle on the cake. I can barely remember the details, but my parents have it captured on tape. I had a smile on my face, laughing and stuffing my face with all the cake I could fit. All my daycare friends and family gather around me, singing Happy Birthday. I’m so happy.

One and a half, and I’m learning to walk. My little feet pad on the wooden floors of our old house. I’m wearing shoes that squeak with each step, alerting my parents to where I am at all times. I’m giggling and clapping my hands until I trip on my own feet and fall with a thud. When I sit up and start to cry, my mom rushes to comfort me. 

Two years since my birth, and I’m learning to read. I sound out words and laugh. I sit in my mom’s lap holding a children’s book, one I can’t recall now. I seem to struggle quite a bit. I have no idea what’s going on in the world, just that I’m having fun.

Three years old, this year flew by like a summer breeze. It was a happy yet busy year, with me starting to learn basic human functions. The words of a book roll off my tongue like I’ve known them all my life. I speak in short terms. I love reading fairy tales; I wish I were a princess! I think when I’m an adult, I get to be whatever I want. I’m going to be a princess.

Four years of age, I’ve started school. My junior kindergarten friends run around me as we play games during recess. For my birthday I got a puppy. His name is Donut! I love Donut. I love school.

Five years now, I enter senior kindergarten. I have the same friends as before! My birthday rolls around pretty soon, and I get to invite them all to a trampoline park. We have fun jumping around before eating pizza and then cake. I am so happy.

Six years old, I’m in grade one. We’ve learned addition! I know that six plus six is 12. That’s twice my age! My teacher is so nice, she gives us candy sometimes. For Halloween, I got to be Cinderella, my favourite princess! She’s so pretty.

Seven years old. Grade two now, and some of my friends have switched schools. We’ve started addition and subtraction with double-digit numbers! My age is only one digit. I’m so excited to become an adult, adults get to do anything they want!

Eight years old. In grade three, we have to learn something called multiplication, when I multiply three times two, I get 6. If I multiply my age, I’ll be 16! I’m excited to be 16! I get to learn to drive, and I can go anywhere I want!

Nine years old. I learned a swear word. My friend keeps saying it and then starts giggling. I shush her and look around to make sure no teachers heard. I know that this is a bad word, but I always hear my dad say it while he’s driving. I’ll ask him about it.

I’m ten now, I hit the double digits! To celebrate, my parents took me to Disneyland! It was so fun; I got to see Mickey Mouse in real life. We took a picture together, and he even signed it! I hung it up on my wall as a memory of that time.

I’m in grade six, and I’m eleven. I feel so old. I know that Santa and the Easter Bunny aren’t real. My friends swear a lot. I don’t, but they’re more bold. They say that they’re more mature than me. I don’t want to start swearing. Maybe I’ll just be a baby my whole life.

I’m twelve now. I’m so excited to become a teenager. Just one year! My parents say they’ll get me a phone. All my friends have phones, and they always text each other on them. Donut is nine years old now, and he loves to play with other dogs. One time he got too excited and accidentally bit another dog. We trained Donut to be nicer!

I’m thirteen. I’m finally a teenager! It feels the same, however. I do have a phone now, and I can text my friends. But all they talk about is which boys they have a crush on. Someone asks me, but I have no one to say. I tell them that they don’t know him. They keep prying so I give them a fake name. I worry more about clothes and popularity in school. I try to dress casual but stylish. I burn through my money, spending it on clothes and things to make me look cool.

I’m fourteen now. I like listening to music in my room. I have many online friends. My parents and I argue a lot. I started my period. It feels uncomfortable, like a worm niggling away at my insides. Blood comes streaming down my legs sometimes. At night, the pad scratches and tickles on my skin. I can’t sleep. I’ve started to swear. I guess I’m mature now.

I’m fifteen. I’m excited for next year when I’ll be learning to drive. I’m tired every day. I try to balance co-curriculars and homework. I joined strings in school and I’m learning the cello. My friend group consists of three people, including me. My two friends argue while I watch from the side. I think it’s time for me to move on from them, and let us all start fresh with new people. I have my first crush. He doesn’t know I exist. I haven’t told anyone, for fear of being embarrassed or outed. 

I’m sixteen now, and I’m learning to drive. I remember when I was eight; now multiplication comes easily to me. My life feels meaningless. I’ve started a part-time job at a restaurant, serving food. Some customers make me mad, and I lose my temper. My supervisor understands and lets me off with a warning. I have to start thinking about college.

I’m seventeen. I know how to drive. My parents buy me a car, and I often go for long drives. I started doing volunteer work for community hours. I’m almost at my forty-hour goal. My friends and I have drifted apart, and now I just hang out with one person. It seems I’ve gone from the whole school being my friend to only one. Balancing homework with volunteer work and co-curriculars isn’t easy. I wish I didn’t have so much on my plate. I guess I’m almost going to college, which I hope will be fun.

I’m in my final year of childhood, technically. I’m eighteen. Next year, I’ll officially be an adult. I applied to some colleges. I hope to major in mathematics. Donut has passed. I suppose he’s in a better place now. I hope he’s having fun in doggy heaven. I cried for days when I found out. This is the first time in my life that I’ve dealt with grief. He was sixteen, now that I think about it. He lived a good life with all the treats he could eat. Only sixteen. I remember being sixteen. I remember the stress and learning to drive. It seems so much easier now, compared to this. I hope I can start over in college. 

I’m an adult. To celebrate my nineteenth birthday, I had my first shot. Alcohol tastes horrible. But that’s what adulthood is, a bitter and intoxicating thing that grown-ups sugarcoat. You’re excited for it, but it’s disappointing in so many ways once you get it. I’m off to college. All my life I’ve wished to be an adult. Now that I finally got here, I wish I was a child. Four years old and still learning about the world. Where have all the years gone? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nineteen.

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Shania is a twelve year old girl living in Toronto, Canada. She goes to Havergal College. She enjoys reading and writing, and has written some short novels as a child. She has around three bookshelves full of books and she’s read almost all of these installments, and enjoyed them!