Age Fifteen: “Where the Boys Are . . .”

After the so-called senior recital—which should have marked an end point, should it not?—the piano saga continued. I played in a piano competition in Memphis the fall I turned fifteen. I was the youngest competitor, which should have told me something. Also, I'd refused to practice as I should. I went blank in the performance, … Continue reading Age Fifteen: “Where the Boys Are . . .”

Ah, Thirteen!

Finally, a teenager. What was different? Very little. I still looked immature. No makeup, no pierced ears. None of that. One vivid, intimate detail stands out. The summer I was thirteen, my mother finally bought me a bra, a strapless one to wear under sundresses. I didn't even need it, really, but I was so … Continue reading Ah, Thirteen!