“The cursive is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Wren laughs.
“Cut me some slack. I was, what? Seventeen?” I can’t help but snicker because she is right, itisa bit dramatic.
Wren flips to the next page. “Aw, this is cute, I must admit.”
I peer over her shoulder and see it’s a list of questions that I answered about my favorite things.
Favorite drink: iced caramel latte
Favorite TV show: The Challenge, duh
Favorite band: One Direction
“Some things never change.”
“Why fix what’s not broken?”
She nods in agreement.
“We knew what we liked and never looked back.”
“Just like my celebrity crush then and now is still Joe Jonas, that man aged like the fine wine we’re drinking.” Our two brains work in unison as we lift our now refilled glasses. “Cheers to that!” Our glasses clink together and we take a sip, our unfinished water be damned.
I’ve always loved journaling and writing. It was therapeutic for me to get my feelings out in a healthy way. As cringy as it can be to reread what I wrote as a teenager, I'm happy I have these memories to look back on.
After twenty or so minutes of reading about my dateless homecoming, the time I bled through my jeans and no one told me, and high school crushes, we reach the last page. I’m in the kitchen grabbing another glass of wine when Wren screams, “MAISIE!”
I jump with a gasp and clutch my hand to my chest, nearly spilling the wine in my other hand. “Was that really necessary?”
“Absolutely it was.” She’s up and running toward me before I can even get my heart rate under control. “Look at this!” she excitedly yells as she shoves my journal at me, pointing to the last page.
Maisie’s Fuck It List
1. Go to the fair and go on the ferris
wheel to get over my fear.
2. Go camping. Like in a tent.
3. Go on a real date with a boy.
I remember writing this near graduation, wanting my summer after senior year to be full of memories. Instead it was full of hours worked at Ruby’s Diner and reading my life away. Not that that was a bad thing but I wanted more. I wanted to be able to cross off items and have a summer to remember.
Instead I’m sitting here years later looking at a list of unfulfilled teenage dreams.
“I see what you’re showing me but I don’t understand why we’re screaming about it.”
“Okay, hear me out.” Wren grabs my shoulders and stares me down. “This is how you change yourlife!”
I’m trying to grasp what she’s talking about but it all goes in one ear and out the other.
I tilt my head to the side in curiosity. “Why do I need to change my life?”
“You don’t, I think you’re perfect just the way you are,” her pointer finger boops my nose, “but after our therapy session on my emotional support sofa—well, floor—I think a change in your routine might be just what you need.”
“Do you think it’ll help?”
She shrugs. “Even if it doesn’t, it’ll be fun and will get you out of your comfort zone.” She picks up the journal and aggressively points toFuck It Listitem number three. “Plus I know the perfect person to help you complete this date.”
