There once was a girl.
She was young and naive, but she was sweet.
She was gentle and kind and creative and feminine.
She did not yet understand passion; she was pure.
She looked forward to love; she looked forward to intimacy, she looked forward to what was at that moment forbidden.
She gave much, she uplifted her friends, she prayed, she celebrated, she wrote, she sang.
She was somewhat shy, her words were almost always kind.
She was as yet untouched by much of strife or stress or life’s disappointments.
In other words….she was young. She was at the beginning of her adult journey.
Sometimes I miss her.
Sometimes I wonder if I lost her and if so many mysteries would be solved
If I became her again.
The truth? I cannot.
I am not her. I am not naive. I am not in my twenties.
I am no longer at the “before” of life, intimacy, marriage, passion, hurts, disappointments, failures.
The only way to be her
Is to be “before.”
I can still be kind, I can still be gentle and giving and soft, and feminine and sweet and good.
I can love and be open and sing and write and be wide-eyed.
But I cannot be naive.
I cannot unchange the changes that living have made.
I cannot be 22 or 23 or 25….
However, I no longer think I lost her.
I know I enhanced her.
I matured her.
I made her a woman instead of a girl.
And that is a good thing