If I could be any age for a day I would be two years old. Do I remember anything from when I was two years old? Other than what people have told me and what I learned from home movies and pictures, I don’t remember anything. Therefore I know you are asking yourselves why would I want to be two years old, go back to a time that I can’t remember. The answer is quite simple really…my life was better back then, and I don’t mean in the ways you naturally think. For example, it wasn’t better because I didn’t have bills or responsibilities, but better in ways that are much deeper than that.
If you’ve been following my blog since the beginning then you’re familiar with my story. If not, long story short…heartache, heart-break, pain and misery for lack of better terms. So let’s get down to it…why do I want to be two years old again?
- When I was two, my family was still together and happy…as far as I knew. My parents weren’t divorced, my mother was relatively healthier and we were all just living our best lives. I always dreamed about going back to a time when my family was a family, whole, complete and happy. I’ve always felt that I was robbed of that experience because it ended before I even had the chance to make any real memories. The only memories I have, that don’t come from movies, stories or pictures, are the bad ones, the ones I wish I could forget. I know some people grow up never knowing what it means to have a family, but I did, at least for two seconds anyway. My mother did everything and then some to make sure my sister and I grew up happy, never wanting for anything all by herself, and she did a great job because we were happy and we didn’t want for anything. However, I’m only human and at the time I was only a kid. There was nothing that could fill the hole my father left when he left. Though those issues have been resolved (kind of), I would still want to experience my family together again just one more time.
- We still lived in my hometown. My family moved to Memphis when I was about 4 or so and it sucked. I didn’t know hardly any family down here. I felt like I didn’t get a chance to really grow up with my cousins despite going back to Cleveland every summer. It just wasn’t the same. I can’t even imagine how different my life would’ve turned out if we never moved to Memphis. Those what if questions will always linger in the back of my mind.
- When I was two, I was happy and so much healthier. I didn’t have any mental or physical illnesses like I do now. I was living my life, running around in my pull-ups without a care in the world. All I had to worry about was learning my ABC’s and how to use the potty. Who wouldn’t want to go back to a time like that.
- Ok yes, being an adult sucks for me. I just feel like I wasn’t prepared enough because of the other stuff that happened throughout my life that distracted me every step of the way. So sure, being two and having no responsibilities, no bills, no job, no debt would be fantastic, even if it only lasted for a day.
This is me at roughly 2 years old. Don’t ask why this pose because I honestly couldn’t tell you. I guess I was ahead of my time (I mean doesn’t this look like the club pose from the 90s and early 2000s!?!?) That smile on my face, genuine. I laugh looking at this photo because I know I was happy, but I can’t remember it. I was so freaking cute wasn’t I? LOL
This is me and my sister (more than likely taken on the same day). If you know me personally, you know that my sister and I have not always been close. As a matter of fact, we were always “at each other’s throat” so to speak. It wasn’t until maybe my highschool days that we started getting closer and acting like “sisters”. See in this picture, you see us before the rivalry started (and why it started exactly, I couldn’t tell you). I don’t remember the good days with my sister before we “grew up”, so these pictures are the only proof I have that we actually got along before…which is how I knew we could do it again.
Lord look at my mama’s legs!!! LOL (sorry mom) See….happy family!!! We took my grandmother EVERYWHERE we went that didn’t require a plane. My dad isn’t in the picture because like most dads back in the day, he was always the one taking the pictures. I don’t have any clear photos of my dad from my child hood. Any that ever existed was probably destroyed by either me or my sister when we were hurting during and after the divorce. However, see the smile on everyone’s face? Pure happiness (at least from what I knew back then). If my memory serves me correctly, I think this was the trip to Disney World (my sister and I trashed the many photo albums my mom put together collecting pictures for ourselves for various reasons).
This is me now. I put this in here for comparison. Look at my face in this photo compared to my face in the other photos. I was “happy” this day. It was a beautiful day, I looked cute and I was feeling good. I looked through a dozen recent photos and my smile is always the same. You can see the hurt in my eyes, the pain behind my smile (if you look close enough). No filter can change that.