By Lili Williams
I throw my phone down on my bed and stare at the ceiling, wishing I was home in Leesburg to see the new, red FOR SALE sign rudely piercing the front lawn for myself. Stuck four hours away in Norfolk at my sister Addi’s house, I feel more homesick than ever. I try talking about the house with her, but she just shrugs and says “that’s life.” I suppose she moved on a long time ago.
I’ve been ready to grow up my whole life. Being the youngest sibling, I always itched to join in on the older kids’ fun and had been so eager for the next step in life. Laying here now, staring at the blank ceiling, I realize I’ve never stayed in one place for long. While I grew up in one house, I’ve lived in nearly every single bedroom. I shared a bunk bed with my sister Josi until I convinced my parents to convert our playroom into my bedroom. When Addi moved to the basement, I moved across the hall into her much larger room. I felt like such a big kid. Then after Addi and my brother Caleb left for college, I moved into the basement. Getting my own bathroom and my own floor made me feel like an adult, and my attitude reflected it. I was only 15. And then when it came time to pack up and go to college, I was the first out the door.
I shake my head at myself, confused as to why this photo of a red sign sits so vividly in my mind, twisting a knot in my stomach. I’m grown up now, like I always wanted, and this is a part of it. I should know that.
I go to my photos app, scroll to the bottom where my family’s shared albums sit, and find the album labeled “kiddos.” The front picture is of Addi in a white nightgown, probably four years old. I click on it and immediately find a plethora of videos inside, each marked with a date in green in the corner. I smile to myself, reminded of the old video recorder often found in my dad’s hands throughout many of my distant memories. I scroll down a good amount until I spot my own messy, likely tangled, blonde hair.
***
I’m standing on off-white carpet in the basement with a ratty green couch in the corner, dressed in a pink tutu that sticks straight up. My ankle socks contrast the pink leather ballet flats and pink mat marked with footprints displaying first, second, and third position. I hang onto a purple ballet bar as I stare up at the box TV inside of a wooden cabinet. On the screen, an older woman is dressed in all black and is explaining the word plie. Josi stands on the other side of the ballet bar in real ballet attire, her straight hair perfectly brushed, already practicing a sequence of plies she learned in class. I glance at her, trying to keep up but failing miserably. Following the instructions that come out of the speaker, I rise up on my tippy toes, hands awkwardly just above my head, and spin around.
***
My mom stands a few feet away from me, crouched down on the kitchen floor with her arms straight out. My purple and blue striped sweater is tucked into a material that looks like jeggings and my hair is barely sticking out of pigtails, only just long enough to be held back at
all. My legs wobble as I attempt to move my chunky white sneakers forward. I hear my dad behind the camera egging me on, “go, Lili, go!” and my mom beckons with her hands. With a beaming smile on my chubby face and a giggle, I catch myself with my right foot as I fall forward. Arms outstretched like I’m walking on a tightrope, I take another step. Then another.
“I think she’s finally got it,” my dad remarks to my mom as I make it to her and she swoops me up into a big hug and kisses all over my cheeks, embellished by my fluttering laugh.
***
The sprinkler rains in the distance as I swing upside down on the yellow bars of my jungle gym in a blue swimsuit. Mud on my knees and my hair soaking wet, I call out “look what I can do, Dad!” and from behind the camera he calls back, “I’m looking, kiddo!” I’ve wrapped my knees over the bar and now hang with my hands grazing the dirt patch that’s developed from us running over it so much the grass died. I get down and run through our seemingly large backyard that was really just combined with our neighbors chased by my little brown dog, Tazz.
***
As I scroll through more and more videos, I realize how much has changed. Our play-set has been removed and our neighbors built a fence, but then we lined it with a garden where I planted lilies that come back every year. Our hot tub where I used to play mermaids with my friends broke, but Josi helped my dad convert the space into an outdoor bar. My friends and I find decent use for that as well. The box TV disappeared years ago and is now replaced with a flatscreen, paired with a sleek gray couch where many movie nights take place. The front porch swing has been taken down to make room for an outdoor seating area where my mom and I sip coffee together before school. My little brown dog has even been gone for a while.
I’ve changed too. My hair isn’t constantly tangled anymore as I’ve figured out how to take care of my curls. I’ve grown taller—not a lot, though—and have become so many things: a dancer and singer, a volleyball player, a college student. I’m never going to be that little girl that took her first steps in this house and who got screamed at by her siblings and who screamed back in the hall, who swung on swingsets and ran through the sprinkler. Whether I like it or not now, I grew up.
I turn off my phone and wipe away the tears that stain my cheeks.
Lili Williams (she/her) ‘25 is a senior musical theater major from Leesburg, VA. She is a passionate singer and dancer and was recently seen as Fastrada in SU Drama’s production of “Pippin.” She is a competitive powerlifter and advocates for women in the gym.
