I was going through some old photographs the other day. And when I say photographs, I mean actual, printed-on-Kodak-paper photographs. Remember those?
Anyhoo – this was taken the night of senior prom. I was 18 years old and I do believe a permanent wave may have been involved, judging from the look of my hair. The prom dress wasn’t mine. I had borrowed it from Jeanne Velders. My mother wouldn’t allow me to choose my own attire for prom and said she simply wouldn’t pay for the dreamy, black, modest, on-sale frock I wanted. Since I absolutely did not wish to wear clothing of her choosing, I chose to not get a new dress. Enter my friend Jeanne. She saved my bacon and that was that. I will always be grateful.
When I see old photos like this, photos that dredge up multiple memory details, I tend to focus on the brown eyes of the girl I used to be. I imagine going back in time and telling her to hang in there. Telling her to trust her intuition. Telling her to trust herself.
If time isn’t linear, but is instead circular (as many ancient philosophers believed), maybe when I look at this old photo and see my former self I can go back in time. And I can stand beside the young me and whisper, “You’re okay. You really, really are…“