In the Days of Our Youth

I have faint memories of my youth, a time that feels like a distant dream. I struggle to recall moments of innocence, like strolls through the park, beach outings, or even trips to the cinema.

Growing up in a bustling household with my siblings, the constant flow of foster siblings coming and going left little time for carefree fun. We scraped pennies together, barely making ends meet. Surprisingly, I never felt deprived of material things, but rather a sense of something intangible, just out of my reach – hugs.

My parents were always busy, tirelessly working to provide for our family. In their quest to secure a stable future, the warmth of embraces took a backseat to practicality.

Presently, as teenagers on the cusp of adulthood, my peers and I grapple with our inner demons. Desperate to shed our teenage skin, we strive to quantify the vast gulf between our present selves and the remnants of our youth.

I overhear them shouting obscenities, completely oblivious to their audibility. I stay silent, understanding that the frustrations they face warrant the release of a few choice expletives. Profanity seems to permeate every facet of our lives nowadays – from television shows, friends, parents, strangers, books, and even street posters. It's inescapable.

We weren't raised in an environment that fostered the normalization of profanity. Our upbringing instilled a strong moral compass, guiding us towards appropriate behavior while granting us the liberty to make our own choices. Though we dabbled in cursing at the tender ages of six or seven, experimenting with words like the infamous F-word, we eventually outgrew it. However, as young adulthood beckons, the desire to push boundaries becomes more pronounced.

Lately, I'm certain they've been indulging in obscene language. Take, for instance, the incident when one of them received a razor from their mother and took to shaving their entire body. The nicks and bruises were evidence of the desperation that necessitated a few explicit words.

I attempted to dissuade her, explaining that shaving every day wasn't necessary at her age, maybe only for beach visits or on special occasions. She disagreed, questioning my reasoning, to which I simply acquiesced, saying, "Alright, if that's what you prefer."

Teenagers...no care for bathing, swiping on deodorant to mask the smell of sweaty underarms, hastily throwing on a semi-clean shirt, slipping into sneakers, still clad in yesterday's pajamas, rushing out the door without breakfast.

But she would spend at least thirty minutes bathing, draining the hot water twice if left to her devices. For her, the idea of spending half an hour getting ready for school was inconceivable, hence the flurry of F-words.

"Don't leave without eating something!" you might yell.

"I'm already late, catch you later!" would be the dismissive response.

"Watch your language!" falls on deaf ears.

Then there's the thirteen-year-old boy – both children are nearly six feet tall, lean and athletic despite their lack of exercise, preferring video games and tech gadgets. Overnight, he shot up from 5ft 2' to 5ft 8/9', noticing the faintest hint of a mustache forming on his upper lip. Now, he parades around, exuding confidence and constantly drawing attention to these newfound developments. It's highly unlikely to catch him uttering any profanities, except for the occasional use of the other F-word, as he possesses a strong sense of morality. However, his taller counterpart eagerly embraces the seamier side of existence.

When I casually mentioned the use of swear words to the girl's father, I noticed a flicker of hesitation in his gaze as he redirected his thoughts from the F-word to a more acceptable reference – 'freak'.

I won't even broach the subject of the six or seven-year-old tyrant, who possesses the temper of the devil himself and is already being threatened with boot camp.

These kids, seemingly nonchalant about hugs, are surrounded by an abundance of them. Maybe they're just playing hard-to-get, hoping for more affection.

Honestly, they're fantastic kids – well-rounded and primarily straight-A students. They're simply navigating their path to individuality and identity. In many ways, they're leaps and bounds ahead of where I was at their age, and for that, I'm grateful.

ME THEN~~~~The stark contrast

My father was a connoisseur of curse words. Whenever he had a few drinks, usually on weekends when the paycheck arrived, a colorful tapestry of curses would color our home. Yet, if he ever caught us children even thinking about swearing, there would be severe consequences.

On the contrary, my mother, a patient and