The World of the Young
Ah Emily, young blogsister, you make me wish I were 15 again. Not MY fifteen, YOURS. Fifteen for me meant the epitome of 1950s repressed Catholic teenage angst driveled out as terrible rhymed poetry and frequent verbal abusings of my clueless parents. You probably can’t imagine being my age – on the verge of my first Social Security check. But you make me dream of being yours – not “again” but now for the first time.