Youth   It’s me, 'youth,' visiting you. I see that you’re not doing too badly even after I’ve left. Good for you. My earliest memories are of living with the cherub that you were. I was your first cry, your first steps, your babble, and scraped knees. I lived in your curiosity and your chatter. Then I grew into an adolescent. I’m rebellious and difficult to control. Emotions rage within me—pride, anger, delight, and embarrassment. I’m always searching for an identity of my own. It’s me, youth at my difficult best during the adolescent years. I’m also fast, bright, and energetic. It's when I live in you that you may make mistakes and be given some life lessons. On the whole, I’m meant to be lived and enjoyed. All too soon, I slip through your fingers. One day I’m there, and the next I’m gone. I’m just cherished memories, nostalgia, or stories you tell. You may desperately try to cling to me, but I say, “Age gracefully." There’s a beauty and charm to agei...