I think there are new wrinkles around my mouth. Actually, I know there are because my profile picture on this blog does not show them. They are new. They are wrinkles. I am not prepared for this.
I got pregnant when I was 22. Twenty-two. Do you know how many times I have been in a bar? Hmm. I don't. I am counting on my fingers... three? Four? I don't know. I don't know bars.
I had a lot of dreams when I was smaller. I wanted to do things in a louder way. I wanted to be on stages and in magazines. I wanted to make things you would recognize. But my life dramatically changed and then it did that again and again and again. I can count those changes on my fingers too.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my life had stopped making left turns. If instead of going around in left-turn circles, I had carried on in one direction. Those things I wanted to do are still there. I can still feel them and I am still excited and happy when I dip my toe into them. But they don't consume me.
I am 28. Twenty-eight. I have wrinkles around my mouth. And my oldest dream, to be a mom, is my whole life. I am not lamenting this fact. But it would be hard to look at those wrinkles without soaking in the reality that six years of my youthiest youth are gone. That was the youngest I was ever going to be. I think I thought I had all the time in world. I think I thought I could have the kids and then they would go to school and I could still try something else too and I don't know, maybe I can try something but I can't try everything. I traded that for this. But I've thought about it a lot and you know, if I could go back and do it all again, I still would.