She Begs For More Time With Us

When did she grow up? She was twelve yesterday. Stomping. Pouting. Shouting about nothing. Hiding, so no one would know we belonged to her. Now she begs for more time with us. She never seems to want us to leave. She cannot be with us enough. We are both bemused. We who were an embarrassment at twelve, Have suddenly become her chosen two at 34. We hug her tightly, wondering if she is afraid to let us go. Because of our age. Old people die, right? We look at each other and laugh. We are invincible. Planning to live forever Like everyone else.