A nostalgic moment

Sometimes, in the quiet stillness of the night just before sleep takes over, I catch a glimpse. Of the purple room with sparkles on the ceiling. And for a second I’m back in those pink flannel sheets. And the only things concerning me are quizzes and spelling bees and why I can’t have a pink Motorola razor when all my friends do. And for the briefest moment I’m transported to a time when the world wasn’t comprised of bills and performance reviews and benefits packages. Does this job provide health insurance? Will I have enough money to retire? Will the planet even last that long? There once was a time when all of that was years in the future. The days were made up of horseback riding under a pink sky and wondering if a boy would ever like me back. Of late night sleepover giggling and camping on the houseboat. The world was so small and insular and yet held such boundless potential.

Who was that girl? There are moments when I almost don’t recognize her. Yet I still call upon her during my darkest days. She reminds me to be hopeful and to daydream. To seek knowledge and always keep learning. To touch the grass and look up at the sky and smell the salty ocean air. She’s there when I sing at the top of my lungs in the car or the shower. She’s there when I laugh so hard my cheeks hurt. But most importantly, she’s there on the days when I’m feeling down or stressed and I need to ground myself. When I need to take a moment and remember who I am and what truly matters. Because she is what matters. The little girl at the core of it all. The one who loved so fiercely and laughed so often and cried so hard. The girl who was so deeply enveloped in affection and friendship that the warmth of those memories still serves to warm me on my coldest days.

In the past, I’ve talked a lot to you all at length about my “why.” My why, my reason for being, of course, is my daughter. But this other little girl. Little me. She’s my how. She carries the flame, bears the torch, and lights the way. She holds me up on days when I feel worthless, scared, and alone. She reminds me who I am. Brave. Inquisitive. Thoughtful. Because, despite every trial and hurdle and tragedy that I have faced, I strive to remain, in some small way, the little girl on Susan B Lane. The girl who loved her horse and her friends and learning. The girl with braces and a cowlick who never stopped dreaming. Because of her, I am. And what a beautiful thing that is.