she’d probably be proud

When I was in high school, we had to do a project in Mr. Ames’ Global class. Or maybe it was Civics. Either way, the memory resurfaced tonight. During this project, we had to imagine our future lives: pick a house, a car, a state to call home. I wanted a big white house with a wrap-around porch, somewhere in Massachusetts, and I was a cognitive behavior therapist (not adding up, I know, but those were different times and I was 15).

Oddly enough, I live in Rhode Island now. Close enough to Massachusetts to feel like the edges of that dream still hold. But I am now in school pursuing my Masters in Social Work, with hopes of practicing independently in the future. And it clicked. I realized that I’m living out the very life a younger version of me once imagined.

I spent a lot of high school unsure if I was going to make it to 18, let alone into my twenties. I’m 26 now. And somewhere in the past eleven years, I forgot that I used to have dreams.

And I have realized that I am living them.

To making that version of me proud,

Lo