Updated: Dec. 20, 2015 | Originally Published: May 12, 2015
At 20, you find yourself struggling to land a job. In a burst of rebellion, you color your hair a vibrant purple, indulge in too much cannabis, and enroll in a local school’s music and video program. This arrangement keeps your parents financially supportive of your lifestyle choices, including your hair dye and herb.
Music becomes your solace as you navigate the streets of Seattle, still resonating with the echoes of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden. The presence of artists like Layne Staley and Elliott Smith lingers, their melodies igniting a fire within you—sparks of golden emotion that make you feel alive, yearning to express love and freedom but stuck in a silence that feels suffocating. Your own words remain trapped, confined to the pages of your journal, while you fade into the background at school.
The nights are filled not with the peaceful sounds of nature but with the chaos of urban life—the cries of the inebriated and the weary. You begin to skip classes, opting for movies that transport you into vivid stories or spending hours on your futon, alone with your thoughts and a haze of smoke. Frequent calls to your mom become a lifeline as the world outside grows dimmer.
In the solitude of your loft, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the haunting echoes of Mazzy Star, you let your imagination run wild. You weave tales to soothe your restless heart, dreaming of love—whether it’s the guitarist from Pearl Jam, whose soulful eyes captivate you, or the boy in your recording studio class, with whom you share a silent connection. In these nighttime fantasies, you’re cherished for your uniqueness, your creativity, and your slow, unfolding essence.
Fast Forward to 40
After navigating a winding life path, you find yourself in Maine at 28, where a serendipitous meeting with a boy in a yellow button-down shirt transforms your outlook. You notice the spark in his eyes, and once the conversation flows, it’s as if a dam has burst.
Now, looking back, 12 years seem to have evaporated in an instant. Relationships, you learn, are rarely perfect. Embracing the beauty in imperfections becomes an art—recognizing the cracks and learning to adapt. Your children orbit around you, their joy lighting up your busy life. Your body, though starting to show signs of wear, still possesses the energy to create and explore new avenues. You often wonder if you could enjoy this moment more if only you weren’t so exhausted. Yet amidst the chaos, you find fleeting moments of serenity, like the small, sweet grasp of your children’s hands.
Occasionally, the thought crosses your mind: Shouldn’t I be somewhere else? Perhaps wandering through a vibrant market in Spain or nestled in a cozy cabin with a lover? But even in the whirlwind of everyday life, music remains your lifeblood, whether it’s the nostalgic melodies of Elton John that transport you back to your youth or the infectious rhythms of songs your son plays on repeat. You witness him absorb the joy of music, and you feel a sense of connection—a passing of dreams from one generation to the next.
Writing becomes your refuge. You carve out moments of quiet while your children are at school or napping, pouring your thoughts onto paper and finding joy in the process. Looking back at your 20-year-old self, you recognize her beauty and freedom, yet you understand the love you’ve cultivated in your current life comes from a diverse bouquet of relationships rather than one singular, overwhelming romance.
You ponder whether you have another full life ahead of you, envisioning yourself at 80, still passionate about words, music, and the little things that bring joy. You consider if all the letting go you’ve practiced over the years will allow space for new warmth to enter your life. You wonder if you’ll reflect on your younger self with compassion, recognizing the fears she had while cherishing the lessons learned along the way.
For now, you find solace in the quiet of your bed, the aqua comforter pulled snugly around you. The night is tranquil, save for the gentle sounds of your husband’s snoring, and you take a moment to appreciate the stillness before drifting off to sleep, knowing that in the morning, your bed will be filled with the warmth of your children.