She sits on the verge of maturity – in transit between the fantasy world of her youth and the harsh realities of adulthood. How I wish I could stop time; could keep her from experiencing the pain of heartbreak, the sting of broken trust, the unpleasant truth that life can be hard.

They've cushioned her, kept her safe. Though she has shed tears, she has yet to experience the hopelessness of unrequited love. She has learned of injustices in the world, but she still dreams that she can make them all better. Though she has felt the rejection of her peers, she has yet to realize her own insignificance in the grand scheme of life outside of high school. She has been taught to handle an allowance, but she has yet to feel the uncertainty of limited cash flow, compounded by the overwhelming burden of stacks of bills that must be paid. She has watched others' children, but has yet to experience the helplessness of a new mother as she paces up and down a dark hallway to comfort an inconsolable infant with a fever.

It still brings a smile to my face as I remember our various conversations about how she would do things differently when she grew up. She'd travel the world; go to all the exotic places. She'd meet a handsome prince, who had eyes only for her; who'd tell her she was beautiful as she laid in bed with tissues for blankets – who would know intuitively what to say to make everything better. She would never fight with her husband. And her children would have no bedtimes, and very few rules.

But traveling costs money, and the time needed to visit those exotic places is spent making that money—which then goes to paying the bills.

And the man of her dreams only exists in the movies. Her Prince Charming may think her inner beauty shines forth like the stars, but he doesn't have the words to articulate that. She will have to make due with a, "You look pretty," or even, "that shirt makes your boobs look nice." Yes. Charming.

Oh, and the pledge about the children? Well, she will realize that a tired child makes for a whiny child, which makes for a frustrated mother. Besides, she cannot have "discussions" with her husband until the kids go to bed—she would never fight with her husband.

So, as she moves forward with her life, I shout at her, "Slow down! Life happens soon enough! Don't be in a hurry to grow up! Don't date that deadbeat! Respect your body! Listen to your parents! Stay in your fantasy world a little longer!"

...

"Mommy! Come play tea party with me! You be the princess and Brandon can be the dragon." I pull my head away from the window pane and stare down at the little girl with chocolate brown pigtails framing her face. Her brother stands in the corner, growling as any good dragon in a cave would. I sigh and sit down at the "feast" laid out before me, content to enter in to her dreamland.

The girl in my memories did not listen, and time did not slow. She grew up and became a Mommy.

And so I am forced to relive my youth through my children. I pray that, as they will one day stand in transit between their fantasy worlds and reality, they are able to hold on to their innocence…and stay young forever.

A/N - Wow...this is a short one for me...an even 500 words by Word's word count. This is my piece for the December WCC. This month's prompt is: "In Transit". If you liked it, please vote for it between December 8-15th at: Forums/General/Review Game/Writing Challenge Contest. Thanks for reading!