Fridays Roll Call

Today, on my way into the store, I saw a small handprint pressed into the dust on the car next to mine. I stopped for a second and pictured a baby, still wobbly on their first steps, reaching out to steady themselves against the side of that car. I wondered how long it had been there, and whether the parents left it on purpose. Whether every time they walk past, that little smudge gives them a smile and a reminder that this is what it’s really about. Not the big things. The little ones.
When I was young, I never wanted children. I wanted the whole world instead. I wanted to travel, collect people and stories, try everything, live without fear. I used to picture myself somewhere new, sun on my skin, watching the sunset over the horizon somewhere I’ve never been before, and just feeling peace.
Then I grew up, and life got away from me. I didn’t travel the way I meant to. I didn’t build the career or the accomplishments I imagined. I didn’t find the partner, didn’t build the life. Instead, I spent years trying to be liked, trying to matter to people who were never going to be the ones who mattered and it left me burnt out, spending Saturdays in bed just to recover from being alive.
Somewhere in there, depression and anxiety moved in and started making decisions for me. I stopped letting people close. I started believing everyone was plotting against me. I’m lonely in a way that gives me physical pain, I want real connection, and still I can’t bring myself to trust anyone with it. I go to the parties, I show up for the holidays, and I leave every time with the same quiet proof: the people closest to me don’t really know me, and I don’t really know them. We’re all doing the same thing.. wanting to be seen, too afraid to be the one who reaches first.
I know most of that is on me.
But if I could sit down across from the younger version of myself, I’d tell her this: Explore. Take the detours. Just don’t lose sight of what truly brings you joy, and not just the curated joy. Let the ups and downs happen, but don’t let them convince you you’re not blessed. And whatever you do, don’t forget the promises you made yourself.
Because here’s what I know now: I want children. I want a family, a place I belong to and that belongs to me. I want to build something in this life, and heal from the dark I let take root. One day, I’ll leave something beautiful behind. A place safe enough for my own children to take their first wobbly steps and leave their mark on the world too.
And someday, I’ll be the one looking at a tiny handprint on my car. And I won’t wipe it off either. I’ll let it sit there in the dust, and every time I see it, I’ll remember exactly what it cost to get here and exactly how much everything is really worth it.