"The biggest growth comes out of pain," so says my older/wiser sister, Sarah.
I hate this statement right now. It is a jerk.
And it is true.
Like when you're 8, lying in bed, writhing in pain because the sticks that you call legs are growing, one Charley Horse* at a time. And you think you'd rather be dead. Or short. Because if being big hurts this much, well then, thanks for asking, but I'm good down here in the kiddie pool with my floaties. Plus my floaties have hippos on them, and hippos, frankly, are awesome.
But then. Your sister (who has heard your pathetic whimpers) comes in the room, brings you a glass of water, and rubs your little stems until you fall back to sleep.
When you wake up in the morning, you're an inch taller.
Fucking yes.
And you go the the St Rose Carnival and get in line for the "Hammerhead," because now you're big enough.
Now you get to go on the ride.
*Where did Charley Horse come from? Anyone?
