Elizabeth Greemann

Three year old me with my favorite teddy bear, Beary.

If my life were a book, the first couple of chapters would be my favorite.

I would reread the pages of Mom and I singing in my car seat with pink bows fluttering on my pigtails with the window rolled down. I’d cherish the pages of Timber chasing her tail while the giggles of young Taylor fill the room. I would rip out the parts where I couldn’t sleep, fearing the witch in my closet would tickle my toes if I closed my eyes. I’d laugh harder than ever all the times Dad would tickle me or tell me about his great tubing adventures back when Ozzy hosted. I’d miss the times when I would wake up to the sizzling of fresh bacon at the cabin and shoot BB guns at cans back in the woods. I’d be so proud of the true fashionista I was when Sadie and I would play dress up and lather makeup all over our skin just to put on a fashion show for our parents.  I would skip the chapter where I lost my favorite teddy bear on the plane because I still miss Beary. I would wet the pages with my tears while I read memories from my dog, knowing she wouldn’t be in the chapters to come. 

As I stared at the joy-filled pages, I would realize I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Every time I fell off my bike and scraped my knee, or Taylor would double-bounce me a little too hard; my mom would always be there with a band-aid and kiss it better. As I’ve started new chapters in my life, I’d like to revisit these pages. I’ve longed for them to become reality again because my life was happy back then, when I didn’t have to worry about school and homework or messing up at my game that night—when my only responsibilities were to make my bed and unload the dishwasher. I wish I spent more time singing to Meghan Trainor with my sister and binge-watching Shark Week with my dad.

Looking at the blank pages ahead of me, I am filled with fear and hope. I’m scared of the times when my mom won’t be by my side to tell me that I can do hard things. I’m hopeful to follow the path I’ve worked my whole life for and bring awareness to mental health issues by sharing my story. I’ve learned my life is a book, and I am the author. I have the chance to live every moment to the fullest and not spend my future overthinking the past. 

As Natasha Bedingfield once said, “ The pen is in my hand, the ending is unplanned, the rest is still unwritten.”