Well, I guess I was 19 when my hair started going gray. First it was just a few hairs. Then a few streaks. Sometimes little kids would ask me if I’d been painting when they looked at my hair. Now it’s almost 100% gray with just a few stray brown hairs still hiding in there. There was no traumatic event turning me gray – no near drowning, no car wreck. Still, 19 is a little early. I have a theory about it. . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “19.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

3 thoughts on “19”

  1. 19

    Sweeping the dust from my bones, my own children grown, I revisit an aged 19. An onslaught of feelings and memories sweep into me, as I recall a time where insane insecurities, threatened to overwhelm but the bravery of youth holds fast to succeed. Today, in the midst of life, yet closer to death, I still search for the perfect formula to living. I ache to become that breathless rush of youth charging into yet another rootless adventure. I feel the urge to flip the bird to being responsible before the earth swallows me whole.

  2. I remember when the whole world was 19 something or another. It only took one thousand years to be 20. I am indeed envious of the aging process.

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