Despite that there are more noticeable wrinkles around my eyes and mouth, Peace Corps has this funny quirk of reversing time.
Some days I think like a 16 year old. Why hasn’t she responded to the message I sent five minutes ago? Did I say something to make her angry? I bet I did. I probably ruined this friendship forever because of my giant mouth. Whatever. I don’t care that much. I really don’t need her as a friend. Oh, but I do. Why hasn’t she called me?
Some days my face looks like a 13 year old. Come to think of it, the last time I had this many pimples and my hair looked this awkward I was 13.
Some days my knees and hands look like that of a 10 year old. Bruises, scrapes and scars as if I still believed that I was invincible and it was really is OK to sit on my friend’s handlebars while flying down the largest hill in our neighborhood. Too bad these marks come from stupid stuff like wiping out in the mud in front of the entire village.
But, on the best of days, I have the spirit of a 7 year old. Yes, to all adventures and anything that seems a bit scary. Not caring what others think about me and dancing and singing in the street because it moves me. Wearing mismatched clothes because it is comfortable and warm. And, you know what, I can be anything and do anything I want. All I have to do is dream it, and follow every cliché Mr. Rogers offers.