Who's that Girl?

So, I was sitting here.  Writing something that read like the ramblings of a crazy person, trying to rub a thought or two together to make sense of all the noise that has set up shop inside my head.  Seriously, it sounds like a fourth grade band room in there.  It’s ridiculous.  You can’t find a steady beat or a rhythm to save your life.  Anyway, I was sitting here, doing everything in my power to make rational thoughts happen, failing miserably.  So, I picked up my phone and it said “FACEBOOK:  Two new notifications.”  Seemed like a legit distraction from actual thinking.  I figured it was probably a “like” for one of my very witty and insightful posts.  Maybe another snarky comment about rechargeable batteries.    But when I opened Facebook, something weird happened.  It was the past.  History happened.  Suddenly, all of the noise stopped. 

The notification said “Leisha Urban tagged you in two photos.”  Now, Leisha and I have been friends since before we could drink legally.  We have a pretty extensive past, so I was thinking maybe those pictures were our kids trick-or-treating together, or maybe, a picture of us holding up the wall when we were neighbors at the 405, or more than likely, some meme about wine and profanity.  But when I opened those pictures, I saw something unexpected.   I saw a different time, a different life, a different me.  Holy shit. 

That’s all I kept thinking.  HOLY.  SHIT.  Then I looked closer at the pictures, and I thought “I don’t think that’s me.”  One picture was a girl with a big smile with two of the guys I worked with, wearing pea coats.  The other was a girl with a carefree grin, sitting on the fantail of SHERMAN next to my boat bestie, Josh.  It made sense that I would be in both of those pictures, but the girl with that smile looked so very unfamiliar.  I must have looked at both those photos for ten minutes before I confirmed, to myself, that I was, in fact, the girl in those pictures.  If not for the way I held the cigarette in my right hand, I may have untagged myself from both pictures and chalked it up to a case of mistaken identity.  Leisha knows me though, so she wouldn’t mistake me for someone else.  But I sure did. 

That was supposed to have been the hardest time in my life.  Or, at least, that’s how I remember feeling then.  That life was SOOO hard.  But I looked at those pictures today, and the girl with the smile so genuine, she couldn’t fake it if she wanted, made me wonder.  Obviously, those weren’t the worst years of my life.  Clearly, I have seen harder times.  I wonder though, have my choices and my experiences damaged me so much that I can’t even recognize myself in a picture?  Not because of the 30 pounds between now and then.  Not because of the MANY years that have weathered my face and my outlook.  But because of the smile.  Your smile makes you unmistakable, not unrecognizable.  Shouldn’t that always be the same? 

-Inner Peas