web analytics


Travel: The Judean Wilderness

Travel: The Judean Wilderness

The desert is clean physically & spiritually because the sun shines in every place and bakes it sinless. Nothing can hide from its righteouRead More...


The High To Keep You Satisfied

The High To Keep You Satisfied

This is an archived Sky Blue post originally published in May 2014. Not every difficulty is a storm: sometimes life is a drought. We do not aRead More...


Home Sounds: Chris Stapleton

Home Sounds: Chris Stapleton

I first became a fan of Chris Stapleton's voice during my bluegrass kick. He was the front man for The SteelDrivers at that time, and that voRead More...


Ears to Hear: How Does the Gospel Speak to Racism?

Ears to Hear: How Does the Gospel Speak to Racism?

Will Rogers once said: “Never miss a good chance to shut up.” We all have drums we like to beat. But never doubt the capacity of the human hearRead More...

Backwards, turn backwards, oh time in thy flight. Make me a child again, just for tonight.

Posted on: Wednesday, April 7, 2010


When I was little, I really wanted a big brother.  I tried to figure out a way for my parents to make that happen.  I wanted to change my name to Chelsea.  Keely was just way too unusual.  I wanted freckles.  I wanted a dog.  I wanted a waterbed.  I wanted to be a competitive roller skater like those cool girls in sequined dresses and nylons whose pictures surrounded the rink at Skate City.  I really, really, really wanted braces.  I thought they were so cool.  All the cool, grown-up teenagers wore them.  I wished I had an excuse to wear my fancy dress-up hat in public.  I wanted to take tap-dancing lessons.  I wanted to get my ears pierced and to wear dangly earrings, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me until I was 12 (which was clearly ancient).  I wanted to be Pocahontas.

It was fun to be a little girl, talking to my dolls, riding my ornery pony Tiddlywinks, dancing barefoot in the rain, climbing a tree to read Anne of Green Gables and The Chronicles of Narnia, playing imaginary games all my own.  Sometimes growing up sucks.  Nobody gives you snacks after your high school soccer games like they do in the 8-and-under league.  Nobody thinks braces and Barney and band-aids are cool anymore.  You can’t eat all the Funfetti cake you want and waitresses definitely will look at you funny if you ask for crayons to color your placemat with at Denny’s.  When you are little, scraped knees are just awesome battle scars, bad haircuts are forgivable, mismatching outfits are just cute.  True love is chasing somebody around the playground.  Your party is cool if you have a pinata, and coins in a piggy bank makes you rich.

So as I go to bed, I will check my windowsill…just in case.  It would be a wonderful night to go to Neverland.


  • Inspired… « Sky Blue

    […] tattoo.  I told you I want to be […]

  • ablusitania

    Your such a great writer, Keely! Your blogs are so great! I know just what you mean about being young. I think 11 was the best year of my life. I miss you lots!
    I didn’t know didn’t like your name. I think you have coolest name ever and am extremely jealous!

  • Keely

    Thank you so much sweetheart!! I love your writing too. You have a special gift. Eleven was a fun age for sure…I think that was my favorite too. But just remember this:

    “What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you …expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you are–underneath the year that make you eleven.
    Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three. Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree truck or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.” –Sandra Cisneros

    I like my name now; I’ve become reconciled with it. I love your name…it has a lot of meaning because of the Biblical Anna, who was an amazing woman, like you!

Leave a Comment:

Theme by Blogmilk   Coded by Brandi Bernoskie