Coming of Age

This is a coming-of-age story. That time in your life when you are transitioning from the cute kid to the young adult and aren’t completely comfortable as either. I was around twelve when this story took place. It was in the middle of the summer at my grandparent’s farm in Iowa.

Throughout my childhood, I spent many of my summer nights at Grandpa and Grandma Pick’s farm. My brothers and I had the best of both worlds. Our home was in town, close to our friends and a short walk to the town pool. But we also had the playground of our grandparents’ farm at our disposal during the carefree summers of our youth.

Our mom is the oldest of nine Pick children. As the oldest of the grandchildren, my brothers and I were doted on by our many aunts and uncles. This particular memory was with my Uncle David, a college professor on the East Coast. With his busy schedule and the long distance, his trips home to the Midwest were infrequent during this period of my life. Since his last visit, I had grown up from the little girl he knew. I was in that awkward stage of still being viewed as a child, but developing into a young woman.

It was a beautiful summer night. The sun was setting with the backdrop of endless fields of corn. As was often the ritual after dinner on the farm, I took a spot on the front steps of the house. Enjoying the nightly break from the daytime heat, I sipped on sweetened iced tea while reading Good Housekeeping magazine. I was trying to act grown-up.

I knew the routine of my uncles. Their evening relaxation included going outside to light up a cigarette while watching the darkness take over the acres of green.

The first uncle to come outside was David. He was my hippie uncle. His hair flowed long and he drove fast cars. Uncle David was so cool in my twelve-year-old eyes.

I both adored and was intrigued by my fun uncle. With David’s home across the country, I didn't grow up in front of him as I did with my other uncles. Newly transitioning to an adolescent, I felt I needed to assert my own coolness.

As we shared the cement step together, Uncle David lit up a cigarette. I continued reading Good Housekeeping, pretending I didn't notice his presence. 

He smoked silently for a minute or two then casually asked, “Well, young lady, what are we reading tonight?”

To my horror, the magazine was flipped open to a full-page tampon ad. I quickly turned the page in utter embarrassment. My mind raced for something to say, wanting to take the focus off the magazine resting on my lap. I decided to tell my hippie uncle that I was meditating, not reading the magazine.

My quick wit wasn't so quick as my words jumbled as they fell out of my mouth. Instead of saying “I'm meditating,” I blurted out “I'm menstruating.” I believe they call this a Freudian Slip.

David looked at me and me back at him, both of us speechless. After a very awkward pause, Uncle David did his best to act as though I never made the statement and continued with small talk. Eventually, he smiled and disappeared back into the house.

I was mortified. I unintentionally announced my new womanhood, out loud, to my uncle.

And so began my awkward adolescence.

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