If I go back and retrace where my hand has led me, over smooth pages touched with blue and black and this blog, started when I was young and filled with a fire I couldn't name, I find new things each time. There are truisms I hit upon years ago that only resonate now, past experiences nearly forgotten that lay in wait for me to stumble upon and shake my head at as I go back, back to all the times and places I've lived in.
You still remember all the places you used to go, from the window seat in my first remembered home where I used to watch for my dad, to the crooks of the apple trees I used to sit in and read on hot summer days, to the den at my nana's house where I have sat and listened since I was small. I remember so many moments in the woods of my youth, on the soccer fields, in the cul-de-sacs. And I wonder now, as I try to put it all back together--what does it mean, if anything? How has who I am today changed who I was then?
The past is not concrete. It shimmers, it changes as you do. If you don't believe me, think to a before and after. For me, it is easy: there is a before the divorce and and after; there is a before Preston and an after. Think of an old lover: there is a before and an after. But if you try--if you sit and think and try--you will find that the before cannot be the same once the after is upon you. I remember those afternoons in Bellevue and Preston and know that my parents were happier, but I cannot recall a moment where it is visible. There are a few golden moments, perhaps, all written down and polished a thousand times over, but surely there were more? surely I knew then that they were happy?
Who you were builds who you are, but who you are changes who you were. You gain perspectives, you earn windows into your past where you can reevaluate and pass judgment. But you should be wary: the past will fight back, truth will attempt to surface, and then--
Then it is up to you who you listen to: who you were, or who you are.
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