Today we watched old home videos...
Curiously, I watched the three year old me on the screen.
I don't remember her!
We're the same person though.
Watching that curly-headed ragamuffin makes me wish I was a better person.
Have I let down that innocent little girl I was?
Am I anything like I thought I would be?
Did I even think about the future then?
I wish I could read the thoughts of the three year old me... or the seven, the ten... or even the twelve.
Sometimes, I wonder about myself....
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Silhouettes of a secret. A story told over a cuppa. Or perhaps just sitting on that stone bench, basking in the moonlight... and not saying anything at all.
("I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks." -Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)