A girl

The evening is silent, except for the gentle sway of trees and the last bit of bird chatter before they too head off to their nests. I sit in bed, curled up in an ancient powder blue robe, turning the pages of an old college photo album that I dug out of my closet. I pause for a moment and count the years. One, two, three ... seven. These pictures were taken SEVEN years ago. How is that possible?! We all look so young. And regardless of the time that has passed, as I flip the pages, the most vivid memories come hurdling toward me. Impromptu dancing in the middle of the street, beach camping, floatopia, sitting on the sea wall talking about life and what we all wanted—or thought we wanted—after college. And of course, walking everywhere barefoot all the time.

Each photo holds a world of its own—a story that springs to life with such color and brilliance. And even more than the memories themselves, I reconnect wholly to the person I was and how I felt at that time. Oh how things have changed. Man, how I have changed. Somewhere along the way I created this new life and a reality I would have never dreamt up seven years ago.

And sometimes I think about the dreams I used to have. I haven’t quite gone down the path I thought I would and I wonder… Have I compromised myself? Have I stopped fighting for what I want, and most importantly, for the person I want to be? I realize that this journey often doesn’t go as planned and I’m okay with that. But what about my values? Have I stayed true to those? Would my idealistic, hopeful, fiercely independent college self be disappointed? Or would she be proud knowing that I’ve forged this new path, taken risks and tried my best to be kind and gracious to the people that I’ve met along the way?

More often than not, I look back over the years and think about how much I’ve “grown up” and realized what adult life is and means. But maybe it’s healthy to revisit that old self, filled with potential and excitement for anything and everything still to come. To remember the unspoiled view of the world I had and a fearlessness that made me feel like anything was (and is) possible.

On the second to last page, I pause at one photograph. There’s a girl standing barefoot, looking out at the golden sun setting over the Pacific. She sees nothing but rolling waves and sea and light. There are tears in her eyes but she still smiles from her heart knowing that whatever comes next will be good. That this life might be full of surprises but this place, this self, will always be right here. And she’s right. That girl is right here. She hasn’t left and neither have her dreams. Sometimes it just takes some digging and a few old photos to find her.