When I was nine years old I wanted to be an architect. And an astronaut. But I don’t trust 9-year-old me. He also wanted a wife. He probably still does. That's the funny thing about change that we don't acknowledge. The desires and hopes and dreams we have for ourselves don't ever really go away. The job you should have taken. The crush you wish you had been more vulnerable with. Or less. None of it ever leaves. It just hardens. Like a scar.
As someone with biological family members who died in their 60s-70s, I also do that % of my life algebra. Today would've been my grandmother's 79th or 80th birthday. There was debate in my family over whether the age listed in her obituary was correct because she lied about it so often. I remember explaining to her how my friends and I were fighting to make my church more inclusive of LGBTQ folks and her saying fuck 'em about the anti-same-sex marriage people. Perhaps she wasn't nice, but she was kind.
Don’t worry — Grandma Bea would’ve never accused you of being nice, and I’d bet your little cookie snatching hands were some of her strongest memories 😂
As someone with biological family members who died in their 60s-70s, I also do that % of my life algebra. Today would've been my grandmother's 79th or 80th birthday. There was debate in my family over whether the age listed in her obituary was correct because she lied about it so often. I remember explaining to her how my friends and I were fighting to make my church more inclusive of LGBTQ folks and her saying fuck 'em about the anti-same-sex marriage people. Perhaps she wasn't nice, but she was kind.
Don’t worry — Grandma Bea would’ve never accused you of being nice, and I’d bet your little cookie snatching hands were some of her strongest memories 😂