I was lying in bed yesterday night, thinking like I always do after 12 a.m.
I forgot where my thoughts began from. In the middle of it all, though I distinctly remember thinking about my 6 year-old cousin.
I wondered what I was like when I was six.
Then I wished (not for the first time) that she was at a more mature age. Maybe 12? But since she’s turning 7 this November, I guess a five-year jump is too much of a miracle to ask for. And then I wondered what would the world be like when she actually did turn twelve. I would certainly not be a teenager then.