I stepped back and looked at the beautiful arrangements of memories that created a composition-a complete and beautiful composition of a life well lived-

A life I longed for. As I ran my hand over the guilted frame, I’m transported. I dove into the swimming blue eyes staring back at me. I swam around buoyantly floating-imagining what if…

What if I were the girl staring back at me: tiara perched high, wide smile, stiff curls spun around like gossamer silk, holding an enormous bouquet with parents positioned on either side of me-

A real life princess. For a minute I could feel the cool breeze of summers gone by, my hair tosling in the wind, the spray of the ocean from the bow of the boat, the warmth of the sun on my back, playing bad mitten at the Sumerset with the Bostin Brahmins. A family with pedigree-well bred, degrees with distinction, philanthropic accomplishments.

I think about the deep contrast of my own life as I look down at my faded hand me down corduroy jumpsuit I had so proudly pulled on that morning. I touched the soft pom-pom atop my white hat-that felt so smart earlier with it’s companion scarf. I longed to have the essence that came to life in these photos. Something I could see and touch. . .But how?

How to get from these worn corduroys, my duplex at 888 Norma Way (where so many secrets hid behind those oversized green doors-so much sadness, violence, uncertainty). How could I create a life that resembled that picture wall? Filled with moments -summering, celebrations, achievements, ornaments, privilege, reverence, honor. How? How to get from there from here. It left an indelible image in my mind. It’s as though this was the inception of my pretty paper life…

I had a model of what I wanted-Something different from what I had known-a far away land where there are real life fairy tales…