Dear 21,
I see you standing, feet planted firmly in the soil of perfect mistakes. I look at you, though, and I wonder how you got so tall. When did you become so strong? Your path to a smile is so much clearer.
I see your tears for 3 year old scrapes and bruises.
I see your ugly sob for 16 year old breakups.
I can feel your heart murmur for 20 year old lost chances,
empty promises,
and realizations that not everything
is what it seems.
But I did not see your strength until now.
Everyday you were growing, changing.
You were walking along a path to make your pain productivity.
I look at you standing, 21, and I see your wisdom.
I see your simple joys.
I see your laugh in tears
and your steps in weakness.
I am so glad I know you, 21.
I can't wait to stand behind you
and watch you walk to 83.
