Once I was 6 years old…

I was the bubbliest little girl. I had long dark brown hair almost down to my knees, and wide hazel eyes open to the world. I started going to school, loved every minute with my teachers, devoured knowledge, was curious about anything and everything. I followed my parents, moving from town to town, because of daddy’s jobs. I learned to adjust quickly, and to know how to move on…

Once I was 11 years old…

My father got a job in Africa. So we moved yet again, and I learned about being open to other cultures. My friends there were from all different countries. We were given the best gift ever, freedom, something I wouldn’t have had in my home country. Being allowed to go trekking in the woods by ourselves, seeking new beaches, noone had ever been to, or so we beleived. And one by one, we went back to our own countries…

Once I was 20 years old…

Back in Canada, I studied and explored life. I made friends and experienced what it was like to be young in North America… The little girl that had never given mom and dad a headache bloomed into a life-hungry young woman. I met people, partied a little, found love and got disappointed a few times.

Once I was 30 years old…

And life fought me back. Maybe I had bit more than I could chew… I put a knee to the ground and thought about giving up. But, even if I’ve lost my pink glasses along the way, my will to always try to see the good side of things finally won, and I built myself again, brick by brick. I settled down, became a lot more quiet, and a lot less crazy, and I worked hard to just live a nice life.

Now I’m almost 40 years old…

I live with my chéri and kitty, and I have a nice place, and a good job. I pay the bills and I am serious, and play the adult I should be, keeping my dreams and my folly for myself. I look at the world, and I am disapointed in mankind. When I watch the news, it saddens me. So I created a world I can escape to, and sing myself lullabies to go to sleep.

Soon I’ll be 60 years old…

How will my life turn out? Will I get bitter, or will I keep my sweet side? Will I still have dreams to hold on to? I hope I’ll keep the child in me, and will still be curious and able to get amazed by little things. I hope I won’t become trapped in a jail I built myself. I hope I’ll still know what love feels like, and appreciate it…

Once I was 6 years old… And I was just a happy girl.

Soon I’ll be 60 years old… And I hope I’ll be a happy woman.

greatly inspired by Lukas Graham’s song; 7 years. (Yes, Danish band.)