I've decided to post a non-fiction writing piece of mine today. I wrote it one day when I was feeling insightful. Please read and comment! Here it is.
Memories: Who I Am
There is an old cardboard box under my bed. Inside are many photos from past years. Every once in a while I take it out. I am reminded of who I am. This is what I discover.
The photo of me at a photography class (I took such amazing photos!) reminds me of how I was uncomfortable, or so I remember, because everyone else was older than me. I am reminded of the part of me that is determined to do something, the one who is way ahead of her age. The matureness I have.
There is the photo of me in my Brownies uniform, proudly holding up two fingers in the Brownie sign. It reminds me of the awesome times with Dolly and my fellow Brownies, my 3rd year of being in Guiding. The feeling I remember for Brownies is indescribable. It is uncomfortable, determined and crazy all at the same time.
The numerous photos of me, smiling my buck-teeth smile, reminds me of what a unique, special person I am. I didn’t care much for that smile, or how weird I may have looked. I was beautiful inside, whether I knew it or not.
The photo of me next to a dog, eyes as far sideways as they will go, tongue lolling out. I imitate the dog so playfully and yet well. It reminds me of the animal lover inside me the one that cuddles my cat for hours just to feel her fur. The one who knows that when all else fails a pet or other animal will always listen.
Under my bed is not the only place I find myself. There is the old writing book on my bookshelf, which I filled out when I was just 6 or 7, although the book was aimed at tweens and teens. My writings were so expected and basic, but yet had the unexpectedness and creativity that draws you into a good book. I didn’t answer the question about when I realized I was no longer a child, because I was still one.
I have an odd memory of thinking that the moment I realized that would be something so simple and dumb, like getting an adult-priced haircut, or reading YA books. But coming of age is so much more than that. It is about discovering who you are, growing in all different directions, and being stretched to the breaking point before being allowed to relax again. Becoming who you are isn’t about what books you read or who old you. It’s about finding yourself among the swirling storm of who you want to be and who you should be. I’m just starting that, and have a long journey ahead of me. I’ll see you on the other side.
It's raw writing (un-edited) so it's not perfect. But I like it. Thanks for reading!
♥Hanna♥
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