Twenty-Seven

Thanks for the reminder, Kir. I halfway forgot what it was like at 27. But the memories click back like I was watching it on a toy panoramic slide viewer. It was just a couple decades ago + 1.5 years.

I was 110 lbs, making less than $7/hour, young, blond, divorced. And looking hot in my white 27w 34h Levi's strutting at the Jazz playoffs with my best friend, Ben, trying to impress someone I shouldn't have cared about (I hadn't learned that lesson yet).

And boy, could I run, more miles than I have since (thus the 110 lbs). No car, a child and an all Girls' house with just me and Krissy, no money, an inflated sense of self and a kickin' 10-speed that got me to work and back the 5o miles a day (thus the 110 lbs). I made it one way in less than an hour and invented biking shorts before anyone had seen the need for them. Kristin on the back of the bike with encouragement to go "faster, Mom, faster," up the difficult hills as though I really had it in me to do it.

Feeling scared to death that I'd be found out that I wasn't capable and thrilled to death that I could do it on my own. A cinder-block house in Kearns, doing yardwork and ripping up my first bush all by myself then realizing I really didn't want it gone until it was too late.

Attempting carpentry and wallpaper with my Mom (and actually pulling it off), and making a square of uninsulated white cinder block liveable. A swing set in the backyard because I thought Krissy had to have a swing set, and playing in the park across the street when we needed a change of scenery.

We (Krissy and me, who hates that name now, but it makes me nostalgic as I remember calling her that), living in two rooms because I couldn't afford the $300 a month electric bill that cinder block houses require. We played a game of, "How long will it take to heat the frozen burrito," as we dodged into the kitchen in the middle of winter trying to stay as short a time as we could so we didn't freeze to death in the unheated kitchen. She thought milk, beer and salsa were the three essential staples found in a refridgerator.

We played dolls and giggled and warmed ourselves under the covers until bedtime then through the night. She thought it was a game and I was happy to think it was too.

And disco when I could scrape together the $5 cover and enough money to buy a gallon of gas to get me to the Hilton club. I crossed the picket line into the West Jordan Planned Parenthood even after the "neighbors" asked me what day I'd be available to carry a sign.

We'd ride to the grocery store on the 10-speed (that was over 14-years-old) and buy the essentials: bread, burritos, milk, beer). Krissy would sing all the way there and back and watch birds and kitties and tell me all about how great life was through the eyes of a three-year-old. And without her I wouldn't have believed that it really was.

Hmmmm, I do remember 27, it was one of my greatest years. I realized I could be myself because nobody really expected anything of me except to love myself and my child. And I learned to do both. And grew up.