Tonight I found
a box of memories
newspaper clippings
photos of half a lifetime ago.
I reflect on them
the girl burgeoning into a woman
who stepped off the threshhold of home
and into the abyss of unknown lands.
Who was I then?
This eager, timid thing
bursting with energy, sexual, vibrant, alive
waiting to tear into the freedom of choice.
Who am I now?
18 years and several wrinkles show
the experience of living
grooved into my bones and sinews.
Who will I become?
18 years more
And older, more vibrant and assured
version of the me who now holds a pen, wondering?
Time, inexorable.
Life, inescapable.
Experience, attainable.
Joy, achievable.
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