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When I Was Eleven

Susannah B. Lewisby Susannah B. Lewis
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When I was eleven, I had a whiny, southern twang that was much more annoying than the whiny, southern twang that I am blessed with today.

When I was eleven, I was short and round sans a waistline. I had unruly hair and thick bangs that were in the shape of a large barreled curling iron.

When I was eleven, I was going through a terribly awkward and ugly phase, and I watched the popular pretty girls whisper and snicker as I walked past them in the middle school hall.

When I was eleven, I was sure that I’d be loud and annoying and ugly and awkward for the rest of my life.

When I was eleven, my awkward bangs and chubby face were the last thing that my father saw. My whiny, southern twangy voice was the last that thing that my father heard.

Years after my father passed away, I began to wish he was here to see the person that I was becoming.

I wish he was here to see the awkwardness fade and the weight fall off and my height increase by 12-14 inches when I was thirteen.

I wish he was here to see that those stupid bangs grew and I traded the curling iron for a straightening iron.

I wish he was here know that I eventually killed the pretty, mean bullies with kindness and then may or may not have stolen their boyfriends.

I wish he was here to know that I finally got the hang of the piano and I stuck with that writing hobby that I loved so much as a child.

I wish he was here so that he could hear that my voice lost some of its pitchiness and some of its whiny twang.

I wish he was here to see that I fell in love with a good kid that reminds me quite a bit of him- tall and skinny with a love of shooting pool, singing Bob Seger and trying to water ski while barefoot.

I wish he were here to see these beautiful children that I bore and named after him.

If my dad were alive, we’d do awesome things. He was hilarious and creative and talented, and I’m pretty sure that we’d do something epic and probably be the most famous father and daughter duo since Billy Ray and Miley Cyrus.

And for the record, my father never had a mullet, and although he had a heart attack, it wasn’t due to anything being achy or breaky. Also, I’m way cooler than Hanna Montana.

I wish this face now- without the extra weight and the stupid bangs and this voice now- without the whiny discontentment, were the last things he saw and heard. Not that embarassing kid twenty years ago. I wish me now- was the way he saw me before he took his last breath.

I’ve thought this way for years- if only he could see me now. He’d be proud.

I’m sure he must’ve worried back then that I’d always be a loser, the subject of ridicule, with my round body and round hair.

And tonight I had a thought for the very first time in twenty years.

It was a thought that I couldn’t have possibly had until I had my own children.

My daughter is six, and when she looks back at her 1st grade school photo, she will probably grimmace at the missing teeth, the baby curls that frame her face, her chubby cheeks.

And when I look back at her 1st grade photo, I will think her smile is precious, her curls are beautiful, and her gorgeous face will take my breath away.

On my father’s last day on this earth, as that fat little girl hovered over him, with her fluffy, unruly hair and her annoying voice, he didn’t see a disappointment. He saw his daughter.

His perfect daughter.

And he was proud.

Susannah B. Lewis

Susannah B. Lewis

Wife, Mama, Author, Humorist, Podcaster, Southerner, Jesus Follower, CEO of Twelve Tails Farm.

60 comments

  2. joeh says:

    Beautiful! I have been lucky enough to see my dumpy annoying voiced 11 yo daughter grow into a beautiful woman with three beautiful children, but you are right, when she was 11 I thought she was perfect.

  7. momnextdoor says:

    Why you gotta make me cry at work? That was beautiful! Your dad sounds like he was an awesome man who raised an awesome daughter, even if he’s missing out on the rewards.

  16. Jared Karol says:

    Beautiful piece. I loved how you tied three generations of your family into the story. You’re right, once you become a parent you see things a lot differently. My dad passed away almost thirteen years ago, and I wonder every day what he would think of me now, what I’m doing, how I’m raising my children, all of it. I find writing about him, as you likely do too, is very cathartic and rewarding. . .

  20. Gina says:

    This is so sweet. As a parent, we never see the duckling phase our kids go through. We see their precious cuteness. I know you must miss him and I enjoyed reading about your dad today. (loved that you killed the mean girls with kindness then may or may not have stolen their “goods”)

  21. christie says:

    I had those bangs too! I like to think we all did. I love how you tied yourself to both your kids and your Daddy. Excuse, I think I need to go have a good cry for all the feelings this brought up.

  22. Jester Queen says:

    I’m so glad you realized that he was proud of you then, too. Also, if that picture at the bottom is you, I’m going to insert the editorial that you were adorable.

  26. Kathleen says:

    I think you probably already know how much I loved this, since we are kindred souls in the loss of father department. But I also wanted to tell you that I was sobbing — SOBBING — by the end.

    Absolutely, positively beautiful.

  29. Dana says:

    This was so wonderfully written and touching. Of course he was proud of you then, and I’m sure he’s watching over you proud as ever now.

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