They Say That Growing Up...

I tend not to enjoy coming of age stories.  They take me back to Hebbville Consolidated Junior High and growing up.  Is it always awkward?  I blush remembering my careless cruelty and exposure.  There was that teacher we drove to adult education.  Did I really say that?  And that?  There was that boy.  And that one.  A couple of years ago I smelled his scent in a crowd, his distinct scent, and turned to look.  There was that private note intercepted and read.  There was that special handshake.  And this intrigue and that fuss.  And that betrayal.  Bits of cattiness and clumsy earnestness. 

It was a good school and it was good to me and I have good memories too.  But I never think of it without a vague uneasiness.  It and that time in my life.  In Lives of Girls and Women, Alice Munro captures these moments so well.