I wrote this piece as a reminder to myself—and maybe to you too—that in a world full of pressure to be everything for everyone, the only two versions of me I honestly have to live for… are the girl I once was and the woman I’m still becoming.

This is a love letter to them.

A reckoning.

A recalibration.

A way to hold both wonder and wisdom at once.

It’s called “Bookends of a Life.”

Bookends of a Life

(First-Person Spoken Word)

I used to think I had to answer to everyone—

family, friends, coworkers/bosses/cohorts, acquaintances and strangers…

I twisted myself into shapes that didn’t fit,

trying to be liked and accepted.

But now?

I know better.

There are only two people I truly need to answer to—

my 5-year-old self

and my 80-year-old self.

That little girl?

She didn’t care about how polished I looked or how successful I became.

She cared if I was happy.

She cared if I was still curious.

She wanted me to color outside the lines,

ask big questions,

sing loud,

and wear whatever made me feel magical.

She reminds me who I was before the world told me who to be.

And that woman at 80?

She has seen it all.

The loss, the loneliness and heartbreak.

The chances taken—and the ones I was at times afraid to try.

She is not interested in how many followers I had,

how many hours I worked or what I did to leave my mark,

or how perfect and put together I appeared.

She just wants to know:

Did I live with truth?

Did I make it count?

Did I show up for the life that was mine?

Those two female versions of me—

they are my bookends.

My beginning and my end.

One holds my wonder.

The other is my wisdom.

So now, when I am faced with choices,

when I am tempted to betray myself just to belong,

I pause.

I check in.

Would my 5-year-old self…light up at this?

Would my 80-year-old self…smile and say, “Well done”?

That’s the compass I trust now.

Because I don’t want to reach the end of my life

full of apologies to the girl who dreamed big,

or explanations to the woman who knows better.

I want to live in between them—

with courage,

with color,

with joy, that doesn’t need permission.

So here I am,

choosing presence over perfection,

depth over performance,

and truth over approval.

This is the life I want—

the one that honors where I began

and who I’m becoming.

No regrets.

Just a story

I’ll be proud to tell

from both ends.

So, wherever you are right now—

in the thick of becoming, in the mess, the magic, or the in-between—

just remember:

You don’t have to answer to the world.

Just the child who dreamed you into being…

and the elder who’s waiting to welcome you home.

Live in a way that honors them both.

That’s the real masterpiece.