This week’s Pen Your Past™ prompt — a gentle way to write what matters, one prompt at a time.
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Why This Might Be Worth Writing About
The summer you turned thirteen might not feel like a story worth telling. But, trust me, it is. Not because it was exciting or picture-perfect.. But because it’s yours.
That first summer as a teenager often holds hints — about how we saw the world, what we hoped for, or who we were starting to become. And while you might not think it’s anything special, someone else (your daughter, your niece, your grandkids one day) will see it differently.
They’ll compare it to their own summer at thirteen. They’ll picture the world through your eyes. They’ll notice the music, the friendships, the freedoms you had — or didn’t have. And suddenly, your ordinary memory becomes a personal time capsule they feel connected to.
These stories aren’t meant to sit in a locked diary. They’re meant to be handed down — shared honestly, just as you remember them.
If You’re Not Sure Where to Begin…
- Start with a single day — or even just a moment — from that first summer you called yourself a teenager.
- Where were you living at the time?
- What did a regular summer day feel like?
- Were you craving independence — or clinging to childhood comforts?
- What did you wear, listen to, or secretly daydream about?
- Who were your closest friends — and what did you do together?
- Did anything change that summer that stuck with you later on?
🖋 You don’t need to tell your whole life story. Just write one scene, one memory, one small truth — and let that be enough.
My Life, One Story at a Time
The first day of summer always makes me think about long breaks from school, backyard boredom, and all the random things we used to do to feel free. And one summer stands out more than most.
I turned 13 right at the start of summer break — June 7th — and that year, I had chicken pox. I was stuck inside, itchy, miserable, and feeling very un-celebrated. But most years, I spent my summer days doing something that now sounds kind of ridiculous: I’d climb out my bedroom window and onto the flat, black roof of our garage, spread out a blanket, spray Sun-In in my hair, and slather on tanning oil to try to get some color.
I’m very fair-skinned — so I’d either burn, or get too hot and bored and head back inside. But growing up in a town of 100 people, surrounded by cornfields, that’s just what we did in the ’80s. I didn’t know any better.
Eventually, a hairdresser told me Sun-In was terrible for my hair — that it could break it down completely — and I never used it again. I didn’t color my hair at all until my late forties, and even then, only occasionally — and professionally.
Now? I’m very much an indoor person. I’d never lay outside for fun.
But those summer days on the roof — climbing out the window, hoping for a tan I’d never get —
remind me that I’ve always been a little bit stubborn, a little bit hopeful… and maybe just curious enough to try something new, even if it didn’t quite work out.
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✨ See You Next Week
I’ll be back next week with a new prompt —something completely different, so you never feel stuck in one kind of story.
But if this one stirred up a memory — even something small — I’d love to hear it.
Feel free to share in the comments or send me a note.
I’d be honored to read what you write.
With love,
Kari
