My oldest daughter is the age I was when I met my husband. Lately, it seems, my daughter has been asking questions of a family friend, the wife of K, who is my husband's best friend from high school, and someone with whom we've reconnected in the last few years.
It seems my daughter would like to know what dear old Dad and dear old Mom were like back in high school. And this terrifies me. It's not that I was awful in high school -- but there are certainly some stories I'm not quite ready to share with my children. Occasionally, K and my husband will wander off in reminiscences, and I'll find myself stopping them with a frown and a glance at the teen. Lost in nostalgia, it's easy for them to forget that some endings were not happy ones.
I want my daughter to know that I remember what it was like, that I understand her angst, and that there are some things that all teenagers go through. But I don't want her getting any ideas, see? There are some things I was doing at her age, and later, that I don't necessarily want her exploring on her own -- at least not yet.
I want her to learn from our mistakes, but shouldn't some of my past remain a mystery? At least for a little while longer?