When I see this picture — taken today — I feel as though I can look straight past 15 years and see myself at eight years old again. I can imagine what I’d be wearing and how greasy my hair was and how my voice sounded. I remember what I looked forward to then — recess and running around the neighborhood, building forts and reading Goosebumps books. I remember who I looked up to then: my family, my older sister, my second grade teacher, my next door neighbor.
Yet it is so hard to believe that I am the same person. I was eating dinner at home last night and had this strange moment where I wondered, “How did I get to this moment?” Trying to backtrack through each year and decision that lead me to last night, eating my spaghetti at a house in Moorhead while typing a paper. I remembered at eight years old I never bought my own groceries, paid my bills or had a real agenda past school getting out at 2:45, now I have all these amendments and appendages to my life. I guess it was just a moment of awareness, a realization that while I feel stuck in these past few years, I’ve actually come quite the distance.
But isn’t this the common thread of each day? To look back at those days before it?