September 26, 2006 — age seventeen
(part of a look at the past)

As I sat at the park this afternoon in Dad’s boat-of-a-car, reading Shopgirl–which is not only a wonderful movie, but a wonderful book thus far–my thoughts drifted. The book normally holds my attention constantly, but as the wind was blowing slightly, I could hear the people near me chatting, and I couldn’t help but think of life and the sudden changes that come along with it.

My thoughts first drifted to previous years–years in which my grandparents would come here to visit, and they’d be waiting for my siblings and when we arrived home from school, unknowingly. I could remember the way Granny’s smile would shine through her blue eyes–yes, that’s who I get my “infamous” blue eyes from–whenever she saw how we were suddenly filled with excitement/surprise, just from seeing their vehicle in the driveway. Pawpaw would usually be sitting inside watching television, and I’d run to him, hugging him tightly, always ready to hear him say, “Hey, babe. I missed ya.” I’ve missed you, too.

Soon after, I snapped back to reality, searching for the word I had left off on, only coming to realize that I hadn’t remembered anything I had read for the last couple pages. I finally gave up, laying my book on the seat next to me, and leaned the driver’s seat back slightly, closing my eyes. My thoughts continued to dance around my head, finally halting on remembering the past few years I’ve been in high school.

When I think of my high school life, I rarely remember going to That One School while I was in Florida. Subconciously, I block those thoughts from my memory, and the first semester of my sophomore year has always been a blur in my head. I don’t mean for it to be so because I truly learned a lot from my experience there, and though it was a hard seven months of my life, I don’t want it blocked out completely. I do, however, remember coming home on February 20, 2005. I can recall almost every detail, every emotion I was feeling, that day. I felt great fear as well as happiness. In all honesty, I wanted to be alone, to crawl in bed and close my eyes because I knew what the next few days would bring: people, people, and more people. I didn’t want to be asked questions of my time in Florida; I wanted to pretend I had never left; I wanted everything to be exactly the same as the day I said my goodbyes. However, that wasn’t hard at all. Nobody asked questions; everything seemed normal for the most part. The only thing that had changed was something that I could not put my finger on. Something was different, but what? Well, of course. It was me. I was what had changed. I wasn’t the same girl; I had been through several things that most people never come in contact with their entire lives. Nothing was the same, and I wasn’t okay with it. Since that moment in time, I’ve continued to change every aspect of my life. Maybe I’m trying to go back in time by changing everything, in hopes that I will be who I once was.

I was startled back to present day when I heard a car engine start, making me jump slightly, for I was so lost in my thoughts. I pulled my seat forward again–save the short jokes, please–and caught glimpse of myself in the mirror. After all this time, after every change I have tried to make, I still have those same blue eyes that stare back at me, reminding me of Granny, and I realized something that I had recently forgotten: I may not be who I was at one point in my life, but it’s okay. I am who I am today, and even with many imperfections, I’m completely okay with it.