# STAY HOME WITH YOUR PARENTS.  DONT GO OUT … until you are 50

- Link: https://write-stuff-4u2c.com/stay-home-with-your-parents-dont-go-out-until-you-are-50/
- Published: 2025-02-23T14:19:56-05:00
- Author: Heidi Dare Turner Jenkins

> What advice would you give to your teenage self?

The day was sunny. They arrived at the beach in the cool of the morning. There was
not any heat or people laying in the sand on beach towels. Neither were there any
umbrellas buried in the sand. No music from someone’s boom box or children laughing
while they made sandcastles. The things absent also  were teenagers walking the 
beach. Those teenagers would be those who had underdeveloped minds trapped in a 
hormone raging body. Hormones,,,Why can’t hormones just arrive after you are settled
down with your spouse? Let me back up in my story about the teenagers. The reason
the teenagers would be on the beach would be because of their recent graduation.
Somehow, graduation meant they thought they were grown. So they all headed to the
beach together. They would pay for a cottage they rented for a week…and the rest
is water under the bridge like Adele says,

We arrived on the beach, and I was flabbergasted that no one else was here. Where
in the world was everyone? That’s another part of my story, I’ll get to eventually.
Another thing that puzzled me was how the beach looked. I mean, why were the huge
rocks in the water? Why was there a sand area jutting off the left side? It looked
like that was the end of the earth or something.

We put our bags of towels down on the sand. “Spread some of the towels on the sand,”
my husband said. “We can relax while we lay here on the sand. We can listen to the
ocean waves.” I agreed. We needed this relaxation. Today should be a good beach 
day.

I awoke groggy and blurry eyed. My glimpse was of a group of men in what appeared
to be Indian costumes shooting Nerf guns at us. I didn’t hear the shots from the
guns, but I knew they were pointed at us. So why didn’t we feel the bullets hit 
us? I am not sure. Seconds later, my husband woke up from his nap. He would then
bolt up proclaiming that this area was a private beach. Somehow, he misread the 
sign that said private beach at the entrance. These men were a tribe of people who
inhabit this area. They were mad at us for using their beach. As hard as I tried,
my body felt like lead. I could not seem to put my two feet on the ground. How would
I escape this madness? Then I woke up. You heard me. I woke up. What I thought was
reality was actually a dream. I was dreaming, so there weren’t any men in Indian
costumes anywhere on the beach. I woke up to the sound of my husband snoring. He
lay there with no worries or concerns about invading a private beach. Or a tribe
shooting at us with Nerf guns. Also, I freely move. I didn’t feel like a ton of 
bricks were weighing me down. I decided to let my husband sleep in peace. I, on 
the other hand, was hungry. I noticed a food truck made their temporary home on 
the sand. I walked over with the smell of burgers and hot dogs drifting past my 
nose. My stomach instantly growled like a hungry bear. They were also people here
now. I saw all the children playing with their friends while they were making sandcastles.
Several beachcombers had their radio’s tuned to their favorite music. Music, including
the Classic Rock of 106.9 FM. Sitting at a table by the food truck was a teenage
girl. I couldn’t help but notice she looked just like me when I was her age. She
appeared to be worried about something or maybe on the verge of tears. I wasn’t 
sure. Once I got closer to the table, she was, in fact, crying. She was a beautiful
blonde haired teenage girl who sat all alone. I saw a volleyball goal set up on 
the beach nearby. There were several boys playing what seemed to be a fun game. 
I walked to the opening of the food truck and ordered two cones of vanilla ice cream.
Taking a chance that she may want some too. I turned and walked to the table she
sat at and offered her one of the cones. I must have seemed like an angel from the
hit show, “Touched by an angel.” She accepted my offer of the cone with no hesitations.
We ate with a few words here and there. We finished our ice cream. I gathered up
all the trash. I threw it away in the nearest trash can. Now, I believe it was my
cue to start asking questions. So, “Are you at the beach on your graduation week,
celebration?” Margaret responded by smiling, yes. “Congratulations are in order 
then,” I said. We both clapped and shouted yoohoo!! “Is something bothering you?”
I spoke. That’s when her tears started flowing. In her mind, she was thinking how
she thought she had ruined her life by choosing boys over her friends. She explained
that initially she was with a group of girls in a rented cottage. Their parents 
accompanied them. Somehow, she ended up staying with her boyfriend in his cottage
with his friends. She felt miserable staying there. After she got all that stress
out, I grabbed her two hands by grasping them with mine. I gently told her that 
it’s never too late to pivot. She could change her mind. Instantly, she started 
smiling like a heavy weight was lifted off of her chest. Once the volleyball game
was over, she would ask her boyfriend to help pack her clothes. She could then return
to her original cottage with her friends. We decided that there was plenty of time
down the road to do grown-up things. Now was the time to work on herself. We ended
our conversation with a hug and exchanged phone numbers. I walked back to the area
of sand containing my sleeping, snoring husband. Thinking about my conversation 
with young Margaret, I smiled to myself and thought. This is exactly what I would
have said to my teenage self. Focus on yourself.

Until Next Time,

Heidi💜

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