Sometimes, I see her. That girl I used to know. The one who used to smile. Ear to ear.

The one who was carefree. Reckless even. 

Her hair was long. Temper short.  

Part of the appeal. 

RELATED: I’m Not Putting My Dreams On Hold—I’m Holding My Dreams

I steal glances in the same way she was stolen. Quick, fleeting. All at once. In restaurant windows, bathroom mirrors. The rare photo. 

But she looks different now. Changed only in the way that life can.

She has everything. Nothing. Finding herself lost. 

But, still. I see her. 

She’s sand washed. Softened. Yet her heart—full. 

And while they sit there and watch the world, she watches them. Wondering how she got here. This place that feels like home.

It was a choice. A wish. A dream, once. If she could only be so lucky. 

“You’ll lose yourself,” they said. But she was gone. 

RELATED: I Fear I’ve Lost Myself To Motherhood

You see, she knew. These lives she would create were more important than the life she left behind.

Even so—sometimes, I miss her. 

That girl I used to know.