I mentioned "change" repeatedly in yesterday's post when what I should have expounded upon was "evolution" ... a word so many of you referred to in your lovely comments and one I should have thought to explore - especially since "evolve" was my very first perma-note to self:
This tattoo, on my wrist, was done by three artists in three cities during three very different times in my life. It says "ev*ol*ve*"and the stars, one empty, one shaded and one full, were reminders at nineteen, then twenty, then twenty-one, that evolution was undeniable, inescapable, the point and punch-line of all things.
Much like many of the others, the tattoo itself isn't the prettiest of scars. The artist(s) weren't researched. Much like my hip tattoo, I just wandered into a tattoo parlor on three different occasions and asked for a star, then two more stars, then some text. The stars are imperfect. The text unrefined. A bit of a mess, they are. But so is change and growth and life and death and everything that happens between the two points.
Still, it's wonderful to know that so much is possible. The invisible space that draws a bridge between beginning and end. A winding curve that twists upside down and back again.
Every day is an opportunity for redefinition. What a relief because I don't want to be the same girl I was. What a relief because I don't want to be the same woman I am. How insulting that would be to the infinity of paths and options.
I used to think that drawing lines was limiting. That was until I realized I could draw them all in pencil. That even published words, in this space, can be edited after the fact. Deleted. Typos changed. This isn't permanent, you know? Nothing is. Not people. Not memories. Not even tattoos.
The alternative to evolution is paralysis. Thank you for reminding me of that with your words and eyes and insight, you amazing people, you.