I was 15 years old when this picture was taken. Thought I had left all that in the dust but my, oh my, the memories this brings back. I remember buying that shirt, but I had managed to block out the haircut. I was just gaining a dim consciousness of David Bowie and I sang Angie Baby, Angie’s Song, and LocoMotion on the way up Belair Drive walking home from school in the afternoons. Wow. What a total geek. And there are people who just won’t let it be…always with the pictures and reminders and stories.
YOU were cool but I was just hoping the right car was in the driveway when I got home.
I usually regard time as something we’re trapped in — it is what it is and we have absolutely no control over it, we just have to ride along with it until the end. But there are times when moving through time can be a gift, like when it separates us from the stuff we’d rather forget.
That’s not really fair, I guess. . .there were good days in there, even some great days, and fun and you can tell from the dreamy eyes (Um, yes, smartypants, dreamy eyes, not bleary. It was school picture day, for crying out loud.) that I had already developed the ability to check out when necessary, so it’s not like my entire life was a living hell. If there was nothing good back there I wouldn’t be in touch with the people who made living in that time possible. But still, all in all, I’d rather be here than there.
Great googly moogly, can we just move forward now? I’ve always considered it a strength to be able to cut ties and move forward, but I wonder if that’s just delusional. Clearly I haven’t cut the ties to my past or I wouldn’t have received this picture in the first place (cuz believe you me, I did not keep any yearbooks). Maybe this so-called cutting of ties is just some sort of denial or escape
or a shameful lack of courage. I know the picture wasn’t sent with any ill intent and I wish I were whole enough to receive it with a smile instead of a shudder.
Whatever, before I go to sleep tonight I’m saying a prayer for fifteen year old girls tonight. And the fifty year old women they will become.