As a young girl of 7 or 8, I would sit and leaf through my older brother’s or my Mom’s yearbooks.  My Mom, class of 52 and my brother class of 73. I browsed the black and white senior photos of pretty, fresh-faced girls in soft sweater sets with strands of pearls or pendants with their perfectly coiffed hair. I paused over pictured of cheerleaders, majorettes, FFA sweethearts and homecoming royalty.  I would pause over choir and chess club, band and theater, basketball and football…pep club. The list went on.  I dreamed. I dreamed of being such a part of this amazing thing called high school.  I wanted to be all the things. Popular, liked, beautiful, important.

I was none of those things. If any classmates even remembered me, their feelings were more than likely negative. I was fat, loud and demanded too much attention. I never had a date, and friends were fleeting until my senior year when a classmate became my sister in law. 

I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I did it to myself. I took up too much space when that space and time was not mine to take. I recognize that now. But I also have come to understand why.  The story is mine and I won’t make anyone bear witness to it.  All I ask is this. If a child is demanding space, time, attention..maybe we need to ask ourselves why. Why do they feel so small that they spread themselves into places that they aren’t wanted?  There is nothing I can say now, that would change anyone’s opinion of me that was formed nearly 50 years ago.  The yearbook pictures I realize now, were just a brief glimpse..a mirage of 4 short years of our lives.