Millennium Memoir
Moon and Stars . .

12.1.1999

In 1984, I was ten years old.

For the first time, I was able to grasp the meaning of the passage of time. Understand the relationship between myself and the fact that in X years, I would be Y number of years old, not just in a mathematical sense, but in the way that related specifically to me, myself, as a person at a point in the future.

I remember thinking that ten was the perfect age to be. I had trouble imagining being older than ten. In fact, anything older than twelve, say, seemed distant, vague, frightening even. Unattainable.

The idea that I would be twenty-six in the year 2000, seemed like an eternity away.

But for the first time, I truly realized that in the year 2000, in the year when the familiar 19 would give way to a 20, I would be twenty-six years old, my brother Tom would be twenty-two and my brother Ted would be twenty.

Twenty-six meant adulthood. Marriage. Children. Career.

The lens of my childhood cast me as a mother with two young children of my own, a career of some sort and a husband, who bore the face of my childhood sweetheart on an adult body.

I was completely unable to fill in the gaps between myself then and the self that I would become.

Now here I am, twenty-five on the brink of that mythical twenty-six, and I look back at the ten year old self with fondness and familiarity. She is still here inside me, that ten-year-old Beth who looked out at the world with such wonder and excitement tempered with trepidation.

After all, it seemed like such a big, big world back then.

I find though, that my life has taken a completely different path from that which I predicted for myself.

I have clarified the indistinct career, become fully entrenched in the life of a late-twentieth century Web designer. But the other things ... marriage ... children ... the things I saw so clearly then, have become more blurred.

I have love and family and friends. I have a long-term committed relationship. But my ten-year old brain probably could never have imagined, let alone grasped the journey that has brought me to this point in time.

Over the next month, I want to take you back in time.

I want to give you a gift, of sorts.

That gift is series of snapshots, observations, words from myself as I was at age ten.

I'm looking back to look forward, taking stock of where I am now, to contrast the person I have become, with the child that I was, and the adult I thought I would grow up to be.

Welcome to my millennium memoir ...

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