Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Yearbooks.

I pulled out last year's yearbook.
I knew I shouldn't, but I did anyway. I wanted to look at faces.
Well, one face.
But I looked at other faces too.
And I read the autographs.

I saw the 50 "Make Out" messages written on practically every signature page by the boy who shaves his legs.
I saw the page scrawled across boy a boy who claimed he had no idea what to say but wanted me to know how it felt, who wanted me to know he loved me from Day One.
I saw promises for dates and a million "Let's hang out this summer, mmkay?"s.
I saw people's names and words claiming that I was amazing and a wonderful friend.
....people I don't even talk to anymore.

And it struck me: How much changes in a year? The people that meant so much to me, the people I'd call first on the weekend.... only a handful remain.

I looked at the pictures of me.
My smile is the same. My cheeks puff out in the same way and my eyes crinkle a tiny amount.
But I'm not that girl anymore. I wear her clothes and I share her voice, but that girl is not me.

People change, jokes fade, and time always always always keeps moving forward.

The past is to be remembered but not lived in.

I know where I've come from last year, and now I am going to figure out where I'm going from here.

Next year I'll look at my senior yearbook and see the faces of boys who will then be all over the world. I'll see "Oh my goodness, I love you so much!" exclamations from people I will have not talked to in months. And it will all be a memory.

And I'll be a different girl then. Another year will have ticked by.

Time always always always moves forward, and leaves only the memories in its wake. Leaving Yearbooks to collect dust in our cardboard boxes.



1 comment:

  1. love this.
    sooo much truth. and so it goes.

    ReplyDelete