One late night a few months ago, I was scrolling through my camera roll when I caught a glimpse of a photo that had long been lost to me.
It was a simple photo with nothing extraordinary about it; it was just my two feet cloaked in gray socks with candy canes on them, resting in ballet first position while being shone upon by the glimmering rays of the late afternoon sun.
It was a tradition I began in 2020 on my birthday when I noticed the sun rays were in a perfect position to illuminate the hardwood floor of my house’s kitchen. I decided to take that photo for some foolish reason I can’t recall. I believe I thought it was dainty of me.
When my birthday came around once more in 2021, I remembered that photo. Coincidentally, the sun was in nearly the same position as the previous year. Believing it was nothing other than a silly act of chance, I retook the same picture, merely for something to look back on for a good laugh.
The following year, on my birthday, I once again recalled that image. Looking down at my feet, I realized that not much had changed. The sun was reflected in the same places; I was in the exact location and felt like I hadn’t grown at all. Of course, I’d matured, but I had yet to make any progress in the aspects of personality and learning who I wanted to be. If I wanted to believe it, I could almost say I was transported back to each previous year on my birthday where, for a moment, time stood still to allow this confused, lonely girl to reminisce.
If I wanted to believe it, I could almost say I was transported back to each previous year on my birthday where, for a moment, time stood still to allow this confused, lonely girl to reminisce.
It has always baffled me how young teenagers are instantaneously expected to know what they will do with the rest of their lives from such a young age. At age fifteen, a young person should at least have a general idea of what field they want to pursue as an adult and an inkling of what college they would attend. At least, that’s what society excitedly tells the students of today. But I still do not have a plausible clue on what I should accomplish, as I am still holding on to the placable girl from my childhood.
In each paused moment on my birthday in the last four years, I’ve always been stuck still, unable to move from my past mistakes and misdemeanors. My feet have been glued to the unforgiving floor, unwilling to move past who I was. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I am so afraid of change. As Taylor Swift sings wistfully in “The Lakes,” she says, “I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet / ‘Cause I haven’t moved in years.”
As sad as I am to admit it, I haven’t moved in years. Not significantly, anyway. I tend to return to where I started like someone kept clicking the reset button on my life.
With my birthday only a few weeks away, I’ve promised myself that I will attempt to wound the fear of change that’s been looming over my weary mind for the past few years. Although I will no doubt continue with my yearly tradition, I’ll probably switch up things on my birthday in a way I haven’t before to remind myself that change is something to embrace rather than cower away from.
