A Letter to My Younger Self (and to Time)

I wrote this poem sitting in front of a baby picture of me from fifteen years ago - a smaller, softer version of myself that I don't remember.

 

hey baby carlene,

you are so small

so small, and pure, and new.

even in this picture there's such wonder in your eyes.

I wonder what you were thinking when they took this photo.

I wonder if you could even think.

I wonder if you were imagining that blue butterfly in your great little head. 

Well.

one day, 

you'll be sixteen, sitting alone in your room, writing this very letter.

past present future rattle around in your head like metal coins

against metal walls

of a metal can.

they play ring around the rosy, chasing away coherency as they circle and circle and circle but

 

you'll still be grateful that the universe managed to align in just the right way 

and - against a million odds - brought you into this world.

nothing can take away the seconds, minutes, years you spend 

alive and breathing.

 

oh, how you have grown and changed,

how much of this world you have seen and have yet to see. 

 

be accepting and kind and fill your life with love. 

you are so, so beautiful, kid.

so full of light and joy.

please don't lose sight of that.

Ever.

Please stay kind. And love. 

 

sincerely,

sixteen year old carlene

P.S. twenty-five year old carlene, how are we doing?