And then it started happening. People were filing down the stairs. People with bags who had just got off an airplane. I got more anxious. Looking at the clock. Watching the line of people. And I kept waiting.
And that’s when it happened. I saw this young woman wave at me. Since I was there to meet a 13-year-old, I didn’t expect a woman wearing eye makeup and a trendy hairstyle to be waiving at me. And then it hit me. That stranger, that young woman, was my niece, the 13-year-old.
Every time I see her, I’m a bit caught off guard. She changes so much over a matter of months. But this time, she wasn’t that little girl any more that I took to the park. She’s taller than me, finally. She gets attention from boys. And she likes getting all of that attention from boys.
In stores, her eyes now wonder to slick magazine covers with hunky actors, not toys or stuffed animals. Those days are gone forever, I’m afraid.
We used to do things like dance silly in stores. That, I’m told, is no longer appreciated. Now we have late night talks about boys. We watch the teen movies that I watched when I was her age. She helped me understand another popular social networking site — kind of.
I bought her a Pink Floyd T-shirt, and she gave me advice on what is cool to wear. Apparently, if you were wondering, anything with a skull on it this year is a fashion trend. She also told me how I should wear my hair.
Some of it, like all advice on hair and clothing, was taken with a grain of salt. Not that it was bad advice, but I doubt the bosses would appreciate a hot-pink haired city editor draped in anything that resembled a graveyard.