I'm sure it was third grade. We were 8 years old. We were precocious. We weren't supposed to know yet that we were all different.

We had figured it out.

What did we do with that information? We didn't know. We were only 8 years old after all.

My friend, Patty, moved to another city. I asked my mom, "if we moved, could we move there?" She said, "Yes, but it's unlikely because I've put so much blood, sweat, and tears into where we live now."

I didn't know what she meant. I only wondered whether if in a new place I had a chance of starting over . . . I already knew the answer was "no." It was a "no" on both counts.

That's the problem with being precocious.

You know your destiny, only then you think it's what you were stuck with -- not who you are.

We were all precocious. They said we were the most rebellious class to ever go through the school.

Why wouldn't we be rebellious, if we knew already?

Precocious. Knowing before you understand what to do.

I'm a grown up, and I still know that precocious feeling now.

Lucky for me, it's familiar.

-- me liz strauss, letting me be