Near the end of 7th grade, my best friend’s cousin signed my yearbook “Amber you’re the best. I hope you stay immature forever!”. “Immature” had been the buzzword of the year, and held only positive inclinations. Giggling in class at the most seemingly mundane things was a good thing. Embracing our inner child and playing four-square, or swinging on the swings in 7th grade was still seen as a good thing by myself and my peers. We wanted to hold on to our youth and innocence for as long as we could. School for many of us was an idealistic escape. Several of my friends including myself, used school to temporarily forget the difficult realities at home. Divorce, drug dealing, substance abuse, child abuse and runaways were just some of the troubles left at the door when coming to class. It was in our immaturity that we found our solstice.
Now 10, almost 15 years later I still find that a dose of “immaturity” still reminds in my everyday joy. I find it overwhelming, or even unnecessary to take myself or others too seriously. The same with fashion. My closet springs with sequins and tulle, polka dots and florals. However...the strangest phenomenon seemed to be happening lately. I at times I have found myself wandering into the “mom jean” section of stores. The other day I found myself in a “mature woman’s” boutique. Where is my youth? Will I somehow inadvertently bypass my twenties and tumble into a “mature woman” (or her closet) before my time? I’m happy to say that those fears were quickly dispelled with the day that this dress arrived at the boutique. Opening the box and dreading the monotonous steaming that lay ahead, I ripped open the packaging and shook off the tissue and plastic. Here lay that dose of immaturity. That throwing caution to the wind, the feeling of being free. Free to feel the warmth of a perfectly timed spring, free to chase down a breeze blown hemline. At this time in my life I have my “maturities” that I must attend to: I have bills, a new promotion, and tasks that are expected of me. But being able to detach, to be able to find solstice wherever it may lie, and being unapologetic when I find it and decide to linger in it...I hope that is still the “immaturity” that I and my friends once praised all those years ago. 
