I wrote this piece as a reminder to myself\u2014and maybe to you too\u2014that in a world full of pressure to be everything for everyone, the only two versions of me I honestly have to live for\u2026 are the girl I once was and the woman I\u2019m still becoming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is a love letter to them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A reckoning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A recalibration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A way to hold both wonder and wisdom at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s called \u201cBookends of a Life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bookends of a Life<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n (First-Person Spoken Word)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I used to think I had to answer to everyone\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n family, friends, coworkers\/bosses\/cohorts, acquaintances and strangers\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n I twisted myself into shapes that didn\u2019t fit,<\/p>\n\n\n\n trying to be liked and accepted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But now?<\/p>\n\n\n\n I know better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There are only two people I truly need to answer to\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n my 5-year-old self<\/p>\n\n\n\n and my 80-year-old self.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That little girl?<\/p>\n\n\n\n She didn\u2019t care about how polished I looked or how successful I became.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She cared if I was happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She cared if I was still curious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She wanted me to color outside the lines,<\/p>\n\n\n\n ask big questions,<\/p>\n\n\n\n sing loud,<\/p>\n\n\n\n and wear whatever made me feel magical.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She reminds me who I was before the world told me who to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And that woman at 80?<\/p>\n\n\n\n She has seen it all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The loss, the loneliness and heartbreak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The chances taken\u2014and the ones I was at times afraid to try.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She is not interested in how many followers I had,<\/p>\n\n\n\n how many hours I worked or what I did to leave my mark,<\/p>\n\n\n\n or how perfect and put together I appeared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She just wants to know:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Did I live with truth?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Did I make it count?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Did I show up for the life that was mine?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Those two female versions of me\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n they are my bookends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My beginning and my end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One holds my wonder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The other is my wisdom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So now, when I am faced with choices,<\/p>\n\n\n\n when I am tempted to betray myself just to belong,<\/p>\n\n\n\n I pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I check in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Would my 5-year-old self\u2026light up at this?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Would my 80-year-old self\u2026smile and say, \u201cWell done\u201d?<\/p>\n\n\n\n That\u2019s the compass I trust now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because I don\u2019t want to reach the end of my life<\/p>\n\n\n\n full of apologies to the girl who dreamed big,<\/p>\n\n\n\n or explanations to the woman who knows better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I want to live in between them\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n with courage,<\/p>\n\n\n\n with color,<\/p>\n\n\n\n with joy, that doesn\u2019t need permission.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So here I am,<\/p>\n\n\n\n choosing presence over perfection,<\/p>\n\n\n\n depth over performance,<\/p>\n\n\n\n and truth over approval.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This is the life I want\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n the one that honors where I began<\/p>\n\n\n\n and who I\u2019m becoming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n No regrets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just a story<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ll be proud to tell<\/p>\n\n\n\n from both ends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, wherever you are right now\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n in the thick of becoming, in the mess, the magic, or the in-between\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n just remember:<\/p>\n\n\n\n You don\u2019t have to answer to the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just the child who dreamed you into being\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n and the elder who\u2019s waiting to welcome you home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Live in a way that honors them both.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That\u2019s the real masterpiece.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I wrote this piece as a reminder to myself\u2014and maybe to you too\u2014that in a world full of pressure to be everything for everyone, the only two versions of me I honestly have to live for\u2026 are the girl I once was and the woman I\u2019m still becoming. This is a love letter to them. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":977,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-976","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/976","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=976"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/976\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":982,"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/976\/revisions\/982"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/977"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=976"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=976"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/prolificpreambles.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=976"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}