When I was Big

“WAKE UP!”

Lucy is sitting in the living room of her semi-detached house, browsing the channels as she usually does at this time of the evening. She’s just finished making one of the few meals she can: Beans on toast.

“I SAID WAKE UP!”

She’s just come back from another busy day at the office. Being an admin assistant isn’t exactly fun and games, but it pays the bills, just.

“LUCY PRITCHARD, GET UP NOW!”

A pile of brown envelopes lie in an intimidating pile on the coffee table. A thin layer of dust has already begun to settle on the top one, which looks an awful lot like jury duty.

She’s just about to take her first bite when—

“YOU’LL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!”

A sudden shock jolts through Lucy’s chest at the sound of the familiar voice. Her eyes snap open as she sits bolt upright in her bed.

In her childhood bed.

Lucy rubs her eyes a few times to triple-check that what she’s seeing is real. Her head spins as she takes in the four pastel pink walls that surround her, featuring wonky posters of kittens. The ceiling above is littered with glow-in-the-dark stars. The duvet she lies under is the same pink and green polka-dot one she so vividly remembers from her younger years. In the corner of the room is a castle playset, the figures scattered across the floor from an interrupted play session.

And then she notices the calendar hanging on the back of her door. This month, it features a cute puppy wearing a top hat.

Underneath it, in big bold letters, it reads: March 1997.

This can’t be happening

Frantically kicking back her duvet with her legs, Lucy stares in what can only be described as a mixture of horror and amazement at her miniature, seven-year-old body lying atop the mattress, dressed in button-up pyjamas featuring her favourite TV show from when she was a kid.

Is a kid?

She feels her face, so smooth, bouncy, and pimple-free. She brushes her fingers through her brown hair – her surprisingly short and frizzy hair. It hasn’t been brown since she first discovered box hair dye at 17.

Her hands look so small and delicate, her fingers seem as though they could snap at the slightest strain. She rubs her hairless arms and legs that have yet to be introduced to a razor.

This isn’t real, she thinks to herself. Is she dreaming? Or was she dreaming?

Lucy pinches herself. Ow! Her young skin is much more sensitive than what she’s used to.

Definitely not dreaming.

Could this really mean…?

All of a sudden, her bedroom door swings open, and her angry, much younger-looking mother marches into the room.

“This is the last time I’m walking up those stairs to get you out of bed! Next time, if you’re late, you’re late!”

But Lucy just stares. She stares at her mother from 30 years ago. At her plumper, rosier cheeks, at her longer, blonder hair, and her face that is only just showing the slightest hint of graceful ageing (much more gracefully than Lucy saw in herself when she came home from work today and groaned at the sight of her black eyes in the bathroom mirror.)

Her mother looks at Lucy, puzzled, “What’s the matter? Are you ill?”

“I… I just–”

Lucy claps her hands over her mouth, her voice is so squeaky! “I just had a really strange dream that I was a grown-up.”

“Sounds terrifying.” Her mother says with a hint of sarcasm, “My advice, never grow up!” She laughs and turns to leave, “Now come on, get dressed and brush your teeth, and we can talk about your dream over breakfast.”

She throws a pile of neatly ironed and folded clothes onto the foot of the bed. Lucy’s eyes go wide at the sight of them: Her school uniform.

“Are you sure you’re not ill?” Her mother asks, “You’re very pale.”

“I’m… fine,” Lucy says, eyes still glued to the blue cardigan, white blouse, and grey skirt.

Her mother shrugs and heads down the stairs, closing the door behind her.

Snapping out of her trance, Lucy swings her legs off the bed and pushes herself onto the floor. She’s never felt so springy! There wasn’t a single ache, click, or crack in the kneecaps when she landed, although she’s once again caught by surprise by how short she’s become. Or always has been?

Had the last 30 years of her life really all been a dream? The longest, most realistic dream anyone has ever had? What about everything she ever had to go through? Had she really suffered through the burdens of adulthood, just for none of it to matter? To even happen in the first place?

And now… she’s a child again.

Then – and maybe this is the childlike optimism kicking in – Lucy says out loud, a small smile forming on her face, “I’m a child again.”

No more bills. No more taxes. No more cooking tea for herself. No longer does she have to keep reminding herself to get the kitchen sink fixed, or to book an MOT for her dodgy little Kia Picanto that only sometimes turns on. Oh, and that ‘situation’ with Barry from the customer service team… well, she doesn’t have to worry about that looming over her anymore!

“I’m a child again!”

As if the innocence of childhood takes over, Lucy begins to bob up and down on the spot, and before long, she’s dancing around her room, exactly as she did 30 years ago.

Strolling to the bathroom, Lucy takes in every small detail of her childhood home, like the instantly recognisable smell of coconut air freshener mixed with Play-Doh, and the nostalgic hum of the bathroom fan coming to life. She steps up onto her bathroom stool and is carefully examining her seven-year-old self grinning back at her in the mirror when something else she no longer has to live with suddenly hits her.

No more pain. No more cramps. No more unbearable aches. No more periods.

Wait, she thinks, are periods even real? Or just some horrible fabrication her mind created?

The smile continues to grow. Maybe she won’t miss being an adult so much after all!

Everything is as it was, and as Lucy brushes her teeth with her princess toothbrush, she can almost feel the adult life she thought she had drifting away into insignificance.

Once she’s cleaned and dressed (the routine came back to her like it was only yesterday), Lucy jumps down the stairs and climbs up onto the kitchen stool, where her mother reveals a fresh, steaming pile of pancakes.

“You’re looking a lot better.” Her mother says, sliding three pancakes onto Lucy’s plate, next to a glass of milk. “So tell me, what happened in this dream of yours?”

Where to begin?

Lucy takes a deep breath, “I was 35. Living on my own in a little house.” She begins, her squeaky voice taking her by surprise once more. “I had a really boring job and had to do all the boring grown-up things. But I remember being a younger grown-up as well… and a teenager. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt really real.” Even though she was trying to sound mature, her words came out all excitable, bumbly and, well, childish.

“Wooow”, Lucy’s mother says mid pancake flip, clearly only half-listening, “So, what did you do when you were a grown-up?”

Lucy recalls the 30 years of life she never lived. “I worked as an admin assistant for a company that offered tech support for startup businesses in the West Midlands,” she says smoothly.

Her mother spins around, her face full of surprise, “You what?”

But Lucy carries on, “I didn’t like my work, my boss was mean to me.”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that, honey.” Her mother says, still slightly taken aback.

“We called him Creepy Craig.”

“I see…”

 “When I was big, I was always tired, even though I was sensible and went to bed early.”

“Join the club,” her mother mumbles, sliding some pancakes onto her own plate.

“When I was big, I always had to spend my pocket money on things I didn’t want to. But I did because I didn’t want to go to grown-up jail.” Lucy catches sight of the familiar brown envelopes on the kitchen table, luckily, not addressed to her.

Her attention turns to the small TV in the corner of the kitchen, playing the morning news. “When I was big, the shows on TV were all sad. There were explosions and fights, and really skinny children, and forests were on fire, and animals had no homes. I didn’t like watching TV very much.”

“Well,” Her mother says, changing the channel, “You don’t have to worry about that sort of thing now.”

“I didn’t like being a grown-up,” Lucy says, taking her first mouthful of breakfast.

“I’m sure there were good parts about being a grown-up!” Her mother says optimistically, “Didn’t you have any friends in this dream?”

“I did have one friend,” she begins, “She was called Sarah. She was super pretty and fun.” A smile forms on her face as the image of her best friend comes to mind. Sarah’s long, frizzy black hair and contagious grin, which even made her eyes smile. “We met at the supermarket when I dropped the milk and Sarah slipped in it, it was really funny! And then…”

Before she knows it, Lucy’s delving into the full timeline of her 15-year friendship with Sarah, from inside jokes to petty arguments, day trips and endless nights out. For that moment, Lucy completely forgets that Sarah, in fact, never existed in the first place, after all, it seems like she was texting her only half an hour ago, “…and we always went to parties together, we would dance like no one was watching! I miss Sarah.”

A small pit form in her stomach as Lucy recalls the parts of being a grown-up that, since waking up, she’d almost forgotten about. The times she felt immense happiness, such as when she finally passed her driving test, or her first kiss at 16. She was so happy, she felt like she could have floated away. And it all felt so real…

Maybe she’ll miss being an adult more than she first thought…

“I’m sure you’ll find a new Sarah!” Her mother continues enthusiastically, “And hey, now you’ve been an adult once, I’m sure you’ll make an even better one in the real world!”

This makes Lucy think once more. She thinks about all the decisions she made in her fake grown-up life that led her down certain paths. Most notably, how she didn’t apply for the job as junior editor at a publishing company because she simply ‘couldn’t be bothered.’ Or the time when she was a teenager and thought jumping the last six steps at high school was a good idea – It led to a broken ankle, which continued to click. At the thought, Lucy gives her ankle a quick roll and, to her relief, feels nothing.

She prods at her pancake, conflicted on whether she’s delighted to be a child once more or heartbroken at the thought that her life as she knew it never happened. Her adult life was by no means the dream she’d envisioned, but it wasn’t a disaster, either.

On one hand, there are the endless responsibilities of being a grown-up, but then there’s also the freedom of making your own decisions.

But as you grow older, you also begin to become aware of the dangers out there. Whether it’s a creepy boss making inappropriate comments, the threat of global warming, or the truly evil people out there who do the unimaginable. There are dangers out there that, as a child, you’re not even aware of. You simply live in ignorant bliss.

On the flip side, there are people like Sarah, who bring you endless joy. As a grown-up, you realise how important real friends are. Of course, childhood friends are great (Lucy is quite looking forward to playing on the climbing frame with her classmates at school today), but having friends as a grown-up can literally save your life.

The thought of the climbing frame lingers in her thoughts, and she feels conflicted once more. Being a child is something no one makes the most of. It’s a small fraction of life that Lucy remembers wishing to go back on numerous occasions, such as the time her car broke down on the motorway in the middle of the night and her phone conveniently decided to die.

“Make the most of being a child” Is something adult-Lucy had said telepathically to many a child she saw playing at the local park, lost in a world of their own imagination and completely unaware of the terms and conditions of the life ahead of them.

Now, not only did she have that opportunity, but she also had the chance to give adulting a second chance, too.

Scooping up the last of her pancakes, Lucy feels a new, flourishing sense of life, ready to embrace her childhood self more than ever (including the fact that she won’t see the consequences of those pancakes on her bathroom scales). And when the time comes to start ‘thinking-adult’ again, she’ll be prepared.

Lucy grabs her school bag, readily packed by her mother (she made sure to thank her), and leaps out of the front door to the car.

On the journey to school, Lucy realises she has one very important question to ask…

“Mummy, what are periods?”

Her mother looks at Lucy through the rear-view mirror, “Periods?”

“Yes,” Lucy replies, hope growing rapidly inside of her.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about those yet, honey.”

If Lucy could remember any of the swear words she learnt as a grown-up, she would have said one. But as it happens, her mind seems to be quickly reverting to its innocent origins.

Feeling rather glum, Lucy kisses her mother goodbye (thanking her again for driving) and heads into school. She sits in her familiar classroom, surrounded by her familiar classmates and takes in all the baby-faces of the people she thought she’d already grown up alongside (the boy, sitting to her right throwing paper balls, went to jail in her adult life).

However, her spirits rise when her teacher walks in, followed by a shy little girl, her face covered in bushy black hair.

“Everyone,” the teacher begins, “I’d like to introduce you to your newest classmate, Sarah.”