You’re 12 years old the first time your father leaves. You’re 26 years old when he comes back. You’re 6 years old and your parents adore you, you’re 10 years old and they hate each other more. You’re 13 years old and your mother moves you out to the wilderness, packed into the back of her rusty little trabant-six-oh-something. You’re 13 years old and you have a new room, but you miss your old one. You’re 14 years old and you still haven’t gotten your period, your mother says it’s nothing, but you think she's lying. You’re 15 years old when your father comes back, and he loves your sister more than you. You’re 15 years old and you just want him to love you. You’re 15 years old and he tucks you into bed, kisses your forehead, and leaves before you wake up. You’re 16 years old and you know he doesn’t want you, you know he never did. You’re 12 years old and your parents won’t stop fighting, you’re 13 years old and you miss the noise. You’re 12 years old and you want to run away. You’re 12 years old and your father does. You’re 11 years old and you have a crush on the boy next to you at the station, and he hands you a cigarette and makes you feel special. You’re 13 years old when your mother finds out and convinces you to quit. You’re 16 years old when your father asks you to buy him a pack of cigarettes, and he doesn’t come back to smoke them himself. You’re 16 years old and you can’t bring yourself to let them go to waste. You’re 26 years old and you only smoke once a week, but you know you’ll never break the habit now. You’re 12 years old when your father runs away, you decide to do the same. You’re 12 years old when your mother tells you she’s pregnant. You’re 13 years old when your little sister is born, and you can’t believe there was ever a world without her in it. You’re 16 years old and you give her your favourite scarf, you’re 26 years old and she still won’t give it back. You’re 23 years old and you’re back in the city, you have a new room but you miss your old one. You’re 14 years old and you take the train back and forth from Trolberg every weekend on a supply run, you feel important, needed, special. You’re 16 years old when you have your first kiss, 17 years old when you have your first break up. You’re 19 years old when you find out you’ll never have children, you’re 26 years old when you have your first. You’re 23 years old when you meet the love of your life, still 23 the first time she kisses you. You’re 25 years old when you decide you’re going to marry her. You’re 23 years old when you meet the best man at your wedding. You’re 25 years old when you buy your own house, and you don’t miss your old room, you’re not alone in this bed. You’re 23 years old and your girlfriend lives in a van, you’re 26 years old and now she lives with you. You’re 25 years and your little sister’s afraid you’re leaving her, you’re 26 years old and you’ve converted your attic to a bedroom for when she sleeps over. You’re 25 years old when you open a cafe. You’re 25 years old and your mother is your first customer. You’re 26 years old and your son calls you mum. You’re 26 years old and sometimes he calls you dad. You’re 12 years old and you think your life is over, you’re 26 years old and it’s only just begun. You’re 12 years old and your father doesn’t want you. You’re 26 years old and he changes his mind, but you don’t need him anymore. You never really did.
