Photo, Pamela Koefoed ©
Twenty years ago, I wanted a cut and paste button on my living history. If only such a thing existed. I would’ve recreated my childhood, deleted certain details, and added events that my children could proudly tell to their friends. My rewritten version would exclude the times I fled for my life, and include a mother I could trust, and the knowledge of her love.
Time has passed and I’m older now, and I’m thrilled with the power of choice. I can have grey hair if I want, since I don’t, I color it brown. I smooth out fine lines on my face with special creams, and exercise to keep my middle age bloom from blossoming into something resembling a beach ball under my shirt. I can select which speaking invitations to accept, or work to do, or friends to keep, or what I’ll eat for breakfast…
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