Fourteen years ago today, I was floating in the crystal-clear waters of Thailand—surrounded by fish, sunlight dancing on the surface, and a version of myself that felt completely free.
I know this, because today, I came across this photo… and for a moment, I felt an ache in my chest.
I miss her. I miss the lightness. The spontaneity. The way life felt wide open, like anything was possible. Back then, my world looked very different. I was chasing adventure, collecting passport stamps, and saying yes to experiences that felt exciting and unknown. I did not overthink things. I did not carry the emotional weight I do now. I just was.
And in that moment—floating in that impossibly blue water, surrounded by life and color—I felt completely alive.
But the truth is… she did not know yet. She did not know the depth of love that was coming.
She did not know what it would feel like to become a mother—to hold a piece of her heart outside of her body and watch him grow right before her eyes. She did not know the kind of love her father would pour into her life in the years that followed, or how deeply she would one day grieve him. She did not know what it meant to be strong in the way life eventually asks you to be.
She only knew freedom.
And while I look at her now and feel that pull—that longing—I also see something else. I see innocence. I see becoming. I see a woman at the beginning of a story she could not possibly have imagined.
Because today, my life looks different. It is fuller. Heavier, sometimes. More complex. But also deeper, richer, and filled with a kind of love that version of me had not yet experienced. Today, I am a mother. I am a daughter who carries her father’s love with her in everything she does. I am a woman navigating health challenges, growth, grief, and rebuilding parts of myself I never thought I would have to.
And if I am being honest… I do not think I actually miss that life. I think I miss the feeling. The lightness. The freedom. The version of myself who did not yet know how heavy life could become. But I am learning something—gently, slowly, in the quiet moments.
Maybe that feeling was never about Thailand.
Maybe it was never about the water or the place or even that time in my life.
Maybe it was always about me. And maybe that means I can find it again.
Not by going backward… But by creating new moments that feel just as alive, just as meaningful, just as full of light.
Maybe I will never be that exact girl again. But I think I am becoming someone even deeper. Even stronger. Even more beautiful in ways that do not always show up in photographs.
And maybe… just maybe… There are still moments ahead of me that will feel just as magical.
Tell me—what is one version of yourself you sometimes miss?
