I Am Your Kid Sister

An ode to those who don't get it, and especially those that do.
Inspired by Unhooked: How Young Women Pursue Sex, Delay Love and Lose at Both by Laura Sessions Stepp

I Timothy 4:12
Above all, look down on your youth, but be an example to other believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, and in purity.

I am your kid sister.
By three or four years, ten at the most
With a host of new problems that set me apart
From the heart of your issues, impurity, immaturity
That keep us from knowing each other.

My parents have taught me well,
Downplayed the story-book romances with words of wisdom about a career
And I volunteer to build homes in the city and faraway places
To fill up the spaces called vacation that elude my generation.

And I have a job while I keep up with school, but it's not a career.
So I don't understand what you feel when it's been a long day
Which is really okay since you've been where I'm at, we can chat
About me, from who I am to how I should be, call me "free"
And criticise with those eyes that say, "One day you'll grow up and know
How the hard road just gets harder when you're old."

You pat me on the head.
I'm your kid sister.
And you were just like me once.

You know what it's like to multitask the day away, keep up with friends, talk ten at a time, chase your dream, treadmill to stay lean, always running, forward, further.

You fought the enemy, all men, to break their race, found power and ownership to defeat the shame of gray rape. You chose that skirt, that top, that gaze, said "stop" but didn't cry foul when he went too far, didn't cry at all because you're strong, you win, break his heart again--walk away, bolder, colder.

You heard your parents' life stories, and learned enough from them that you don't have to seek their advice like I do when a big problem comes to you, forge ahead, bake bread, bring home the bacon, build a home, build a wall, fortified, run and hide in the sighs of remember when.

Phenomenal woman,
Teach me how to shut things off, show me how to shed my joy
I've lived like you, felt like you, but somehow missed how to quit like you.
Maybe someday I will know what weight really feels like,
The knowledge of experiences that are bound by an age requirement.
I hit the driving age, the drinking age, and someday soon, perhaps, the understanding age.
For now though, I'm not quite there
So pat me on the head, tucked into bed in pink and lace, innocent angel face.
I am your kid sister.