When I look in the mirror I see all of the vulnerable aspects of the person I have become. I see the love of my family, the trust of my friends. I see my passions, my insecurities, and the stresses of my school career. Most of all, I see the person I want to become. That person is brave and bold. She lives life fearlessly and is not afraid of the unknown. She does not apologize for the choices she has made, but is also not too proud to admit when those choices have been the wrong ones. She has used the events of her life to enrich the person she has become.

The person I am is the sum of my past experiences. The moments of both laughter and tears, the pets I hold so close to my heart, the many moves we made during my childhood, the church that has become my home away from home, and my parents’ divorce. These things, good or bad, have fully contributed to the engineering of my current being.

I cannot imagine that my five year old self could possibly recognize who I have become. I remember most of her life, but she knows nothing of mine. She has not seen what I see in the mirror, and has not experienced most of the events of my life. Although I would like to think that she would be proud to know me; to eventually be me. I can imagine her asking me what it is like to be an older sister, or how it feels to live on my own. This young girl would not know what it’s like to deal with illness or her parent’s divorce. She would see the compilation of who she knew me to be, and the person that has gone through so much change.

I wish that I could have just five minutes with her; a chance to meet one another while an entire childhood still stands between us. All I have of her now are the memories. The memories of summer birthdays at the campground, and Wednesday evenings spent at the church. I would ask her to remind me of her stories but I would not share mine. My stories are the ones that will eventually be hers, and she will learn of them soon enough.

I am both exactly like this five year old self and nothing like her; both of us secretly wishing to be able to live each other’s lives. We share a vision of who we would like to become, and a desire for that vision to exist. However, I see in her face that we have not gone down the same road. She is a version of me, but a version that has long since walked in my shoes. It is my hope that she would see me as who she had hoped to become, or at least a part of who she had hoped to become, and looks forward to meeting in the future.