Sixteen

I’m at my grandparents’ farm in Mudgee right now. Woke up to the smell of wet grass and cows meandering around the house, everything slow and quiet in that way it always is out here. My birthday always makes me feel extra deep and thoughtful, but being here, surrounded by people I love, outside in nature… this is where I’m meant to be.

This last week, on the morning of my birthday, my mum told me she had a surprise for me. I walked into the other room and—balloons. So many of them, all blown up with ribbons dangling down. Because of Up. Because she saw how much that movie made me cry, how much I loved it, how I felt something so big in my chest when I watched that house float into the sky. She did that for me. Because she just knows. She’s so thoughtful it actually makes my heart hurt sometimes. She also gave me a silver heart locket bracelet, and I don’t think I ever want to take it off. It’s perfect, with flowers etched into the silver, and a clasp around it. It’s exactly what I wanted. I feel seen, and so grateful. When I look at it, I feel love, and it’s almost more about that than anything else.

It’s not too cold yet, but autumn has settled in. At night, Ouma and Oupa sit by the fire, talking in their soft voices while the glow flickers against the walls. It’s nice to have this break before heading back for the rest of the semester.

School feels only a little different. Seniors wear red ties now, and our uniforms have changed. But the classes feel more intentional, like we all finally get to lean into what we actually care about. In ancient history, we’ve been learning about stoicism and Socrates, and I get totally lost in my essays. Last week, I got a blister on my ring finger because my creative writing story ended up being exactly 12 pages. Way over the word limit, but Ms. Humphreys doesn’t mind. She was happy to see me because my brother was in her class a few years ago. The story was about two sisters and their father coming home from war. About how a house can feel abandoned or haunted, even when it’s occupied. It was a little abstract, but very feeling, and it’s been sitting with me ever since. I almost don’t mind about the mark, because how can any one creative writing story be wrong? I get the technicalities… but we all have stories swirling in our minds.

Anyway, we’re about to leave for the markets, so I have to go. But things are good. It’s also 2011, which has felt very grown up. There’s something about a new decade, something in the air, maybe.