While reading the passages from the end of May my heart really got to beating over a big mistake I made. This is not Babu’s Junior year, this is her Senior year! I was starting to get the hints as I was reading about her class ring and pictures, but I’ve done the math and she is only 17. I graduated at 17 also so it shouldn’t have been so confusing. She talks about class day coming up and her graduation pictures are almost ready and then she wrote something that made me very happy and gave me a lurch of hope. She wrote: “I want to go to prom.” Oh, blog, I hope she does!
She finally made her decision and signed up for the “Secretarial Sciences” program at Bay Path. It must have felt good for her to have that decision made and I hope she was looking forward to it with excitement.
This was all the end of May, which ended the way it began, with Spring hopefulness and graduation excitement! The middle of May was a little more glum with some passages of hers I will keep private. Little things can seem so big in adolescence and sometimes we can say things that don’t actually reflect who we really are or who we are going to become. I believe we try things on at that age, put them on see how they fit. We are trying to see is thoughts and beliefs sit right with us because we don’t really yet know. Needless to say, it doesn’t look like it’s going to work out with Caveman. I do hope they stay friends.
She has two assignments due for Miss Short and angst over hoping both of them will be accepted. She has some kind of committee project that no one is showing up for. She has a family member who stays to visit and doesn’t come home that night and Babu is frankly appalled at that behavior. She is still pining over “W.B.Z.” and I’m sure we all felt a pang of sympathy. Has anyone not felt that feeling of unrequited love and does not know exactly how it feels? And also, get this!, a boy tell hers her hair cut looks “lousy” and she should make it grow long!
The month certainly had it tense moments but through it all she is still pulling her usual pranks. Jenette tells Mrs. Cunningham, the piano teacher, a “Sorry story about her finger.” and she does no go to lessons. I’m suspicious it was not just a sorry story but a tall tale. She also acts crazy at the bowling alley, dancing and being goofy.
It’s dizzying to watch as the mechanics of her life, fate or just momentum, are sweeping her along, quickly it seems, towards what her life will become.