Transformation of Time

“I act and react, and suddenly I wonder, ‘Where is the girl that I was last year? Two years ago? What would she think of me now?”

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

I went to an all-girls, Catholic high school, and before every class, every day, we said prayer. My senior year, I was in Mrs. Jennifer Reinwald’s 6th period AP Lit class. Each student had to sign up for prayer, and each day prayer was different. On Thursdays, students were to bring in a quote.

I signed up for a Thursday in Spring, and I prefaced my by explaining how I am aware that Plath meant this quote to be more depressing than the way in which I am choosing to interpret it. I read it to the class and emphasized the fact that the person we were 2 years ago is so much less interesting and amazing than who we are now.

I’m almost positive that I am the second girl from the left.

Now a sophomore in college, I look back to when I first came across this quote. I had just chosen to enroll in Southern Oregon University, and I was looking forward to graduate. I was dating a sweet boy. I was gearing up to work all summer. I was convinced that, despite what everyone said, I would always be able to keep in touch with my fellow graduates. I was going to be a teacher when I grew up.

I’m still young, but somehow older. The passing of time has allotted me a new, dare I say, better perspective on the world. I have changed my mind about certain things — something I’m still learning is allowed. Now, I wonder what the girl I was two years ago would think of me. I’m not the same person. Would she be scared of the unknown paths her future self would embrace whole heartedly?

I’m still enrolled in SOU. I am, once more, gearing up to work all summer. Now though, I’m dating a different, sweet boy. I remain in quasi-consistent contact with two of the girls in my graduating class, with the occasional snap chat or text to someone else. I have tattoos and memories. I am learning from professors who have traveled unfamiliar places, and who are teaching me how to be the best version of myself.

My hair is short. I have dreams, now, instead of plans. I want to report on things and write about experiences. I want to travel and grow and seek the truth. Two years from now I will be someone completely different, and four years from now maybe I’ll be in a new place — somewhere the person I am now has never heard of and could scarcely imagine.

I am a collection of experiences. I am a product of my actions. I wonder where the girl that I was went, and I hope that she can be proud of the girl she became.