Coming of Age

This is a coming of age story.  You know…that time period in your life when you are transitioning from the cute kid who hugs and sits on laps to the young adult who is just trying to fit it (but misses being the cute kid).  My coming of age hit at about age twelve.  This story took place in the middle of the summer on my grandparent’s farm in Iowa.  My mom was the oldest of the nine Pick children and my brothers and I were dotted on by our many aunts and uncles.  This was mainly because we were the only grand kids for a time and also by virtue of our age; we weren’t that much younger than many of our aunts and uncles.

At age twelve, as I did in most summers past, I was spending many nights (usually after bean walking) at Grandpa and Grandma’s farm.  My brothers and I really had the best of both worlds as kids; we lived in town, but had the farm at our disposal as a limitless playground.  On the occasions when the “out of town” aunts and uncles came back to the farm to visit, it was an even more special time.  This particular memory was with my Uncle David on one of his famous visits.  David was a college professor on the East Coast and between his schedule and distance; his visits were rare during this period of my life.  Since his last visit, I had grown up from the little girl and felt that our relationship would change with my new found maturity.  It was that awkward time of still being seen as the little girl, but wanting to be noticed as a young woman. 

I remember the moment vividly.  It was a beautiful summer night, probably in the early evening.  The sun was more than an inch and a half from setting.  With night bean walking, the boys and I would always gage how late it was into the evening (i.e. how close it was to being too dark to walk beans) by how many “inches” the sun was from setting.  This particular evening I was sitting on the front steps drinking a sweetened iced tea, reading a Good Housekeeping magazine (as any proper young woman would), and trying to act grown up.  I knew the routine of my uncles and that at any minute; they would come outside for a smoke and a tea.  The front steps were the place to relax after dinner and before dark.

I was very intrigued by my Uncle David who was the cool “hippie” uncle.  He had long hair, pretty girlfriends, and cool cars.  Since I didn’t see him much, there was some mystery about him.  And with the distance, I didn’t grow up in front of him.  The whole adolescent transition thing was new to him.  With my other uncles, this was a natural transition over time.  I felt like I had to assert my new “coolness” and adulthood to Uncle David.  He was SOOOO going to think I was hip.

The first uncle out after dinner was David.  He lit up a cigarette and sat next to me.  I kept reading my Good Housekeeping, pretending like I didn’t notice his presence.  After he smoked in silence for a minute or two, he casually asks, “Well, young lady, what are we reading tonight?”  At that instant, I look down and to my horror see that the magazine is flipped open to a full page tampon ad.  I quickly flip pages pretending I didn’t even notice the tampon page.  As my mind was racing in utter embarrassment; I searched for something cool to say.  I wanted to give him the impression that I wasn’t actually reading the magazine (i.e. horrid ad).  My intent was to tell Uncle David that I was meditating instead (now that is cool!).  But my words got jumbled and instead of saying “I am meditating”, I blurted out “I am menstruating”.  I believe they call that a Freudian Slip.  David looked at me and I looked back at him; both of us speechless.  After this very awkward pause, Uncle David did his best to act as though I never made the statement and went on to make some small talk.  Eventually he smiled and disappeared back into the house.  I was mortified...definitely not the way I wanted to be introduced as an adolescent to my Uncle David.  But indeed, this was my “coming out” statement.