“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.”
– Richard Bach
I was trying to remember when I stopped thinking of myself as a girl and began to think of myself as a young woman. And when I stopped thinking of myself as a young woman and began to think of myself as a woman. Those shifts took place but were gradual and so can’t be locked into a moment. And, honestly, I’ve forgotten at times that the shifts were made. The identity of “young woman” still hangs on me occasionally, perhaps because I have no kids, perhaps because I have a young face, perhaps because I have a youthful energy, perhaps because I have close friends who are older than me. But I am 41 years old. That is not young.
I wonder if that butterfly forgets it has wings sometimes. I wonder if other creatures it’s known all its life still expect it to crawl.
What does it mean to truly (and completely) change how you think of yourself?
