When I look back at those photos
I see the person I’ve become, not
unlike the person I am today. Tales of
snowy winters and subtropical summers.

When I used to take selfies most days,
foolishly pretending to be some sort
of celebrity. I suppose that’s what any
tween would do when she first got a phone.

I don’t take those selfies today, yet a part
of me still smiles at the camera after a long
run in the heat. A part of me still wants to 
recall the memories as the decades pass by.

In those summer days, I attempted to paint
the world, every single piece. That’s what a
beginner does; she wants to make a name for
herself and mirror the oil paints in museums.

These days I’ve learned greatness can’t grow 
overnight and I’ve found myself listening to
soft, slow music writing lost songs. My art
seems to develop gradually in a glass chrysalis.

When I look back at those photos
it seems like centuries have gone by since
I was her. But it wasn’t forever ago and she
was trying her best. I am trying my best.