When I was a preteen, Rookie fueled the daydreams that I had about my incoming teenage years. I imagined warm parties, memorable misadventures, my picture-worthy prom dress. Not something perfect, but something precious that I could only access in the years between 12 and 20.
This year, I’ve found that my relationship with the past has gradually changed; that its pull, while still tender, has become primarily sharp and painful. I’ve found myself not just indulging in these trips down memory lane, but wishing I could stay in them forever.