I did, once upon a time.
She was young, barely 20 years old, reticent, naive, with hardly a sure thought about anything. Her adult life was ready to wind out its path in front of her and all she had were vague notions of living as maybe a wife, maybe a mother, maybe an artist. Truly, her deepest desire was to become all three, somehow dividing her person into separate entities that together would make a complete and happy life.
Wondering how to pursue this life filled her with anxious worry. The years rolled away and the path became straight and clear then twisted and murky, back and forth, always moving in some direction as every life will.
More than forty years have gone by since that young woman sat in her daddy’s car behind her Foster Grants, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. If I could talk to her today, I would say,
“Relax. Don’t worry, don’t be sad. Have fun, reach out, laugh often, be careful. Take those steps you are afraid to take. Find some artist friends.
It’s all going to work out just as you want it to.
Oh, and Happy Birthday!”
