Girl Remembered: Finding the Real Me

It has become necessary for me to clean out my closet--both literally and figuratively.  There is baggage and extra stuff everywhere and it all must be cleaned up.  While I could go on and on about my mental closet, today I choose to talk about the one in my bedroom. 

I tend to be something of a pack rat.  My feeling is that if something is worth spending money on, it's also worth saving.  So, I save and I save and I save until eventually, there is no more room.  My closet is no stranger to this madness.  It is overrun with decades of clothes that hang on all three walls and then spill on to the floor and shelves.  Some of these things I just don't have the heart to throw away even though it was only marginally stylish in the 90's to begin with and I probably will never wear again.

Well, I am happy to say that I am finally purging the ankle length pencil skirts and the smock dresses that should have belonged to an Amish woman and not a twenty somethingish young lady.  I'm getting rid of the horrible striped shirt that I got on sale and I'm throwing away a ton of pant suits with jackets that are as long as the pants.  It's time to ditch the horrible fashion.

I would be remiss if I said that nothing in my closet is worth saving because there are a few things.  There are also some good memories and right now, I'm searching for something good to remember.  I found the dress--albeit a terrible lime green and navy blue color blocked disaster--that I wore to college graduation.  I also found a black and white dress that my sister (and I stole) many moons ago that is attached to so many good times.

I think my favorite find was a little cotton purple tunic that was hidden in between two pairs of peg legged pants.  As soon as I found it, I smiled from ear to ear.  First of all, it's a size XS and just the fact that at one time in my life I was that tiny is enough to make me estatic.  But there's a bigger significance to this dress.  It is connected to a simple night in my life that I look back at now with great fondness.

In 1991, I had my first true West Virginia summer.  The summer before we moved from Michigan and I was in such a shocked daze trying to figure out my new life.  This summer, however, I had begun to not only figure out my life, but in the process, I began to figure out me. 

It was a great time of exploration.  I had found my voice in my writing.  I began to understand where I stood politically and morally.  I had my own choice and tastes.  Everything was new.  New State.  New house.  New friends.  New thoughts.  New Life.  And possible new boyfirend?

In the middle of this rebirth of sorts, I started talking to this guy whom we will call Gavin.  I've never actually dated a Gavin but it's a sexy name and I since I live in the smallest of small towns, I don't want to give they guy's real name.  Anyway, Gavin got my number from my first West Virginia boyfriend (who is not important enough to this story to get a name) and he decided to call.  He and I just hit it off.  We talked until my mom kicked me off the phone and agreed to meet at the park on the weekend just to "hang out".

With this in mind, I picked out that purple tunic and a pair of flowery leggings to match.  My mom helped me twist my long hair down the sides  of my head and I wore my favorite mango perfume.  I don't remember if I was wearing a cross necklace but chances are I was.  I was ready to meet Gavin in the park.

The girl that showed up there was whole and innocent.  She didn't have any emotional scars brought on by love lost.  She was happy, smiley and all natural.  I think perhaps that Gavin was much like me.  We were young.  Life was good.

Happy is a good word to describe the whole day.  He and I didn't have more than a few dollars between us so it wasn't like we were meeting for dinner or anything.  Instead, I bought a grape Diet Rite, he got himself something to drink, and we sat on the grass listening to a band playing in the park.  I can remember that the sun was shining and I was laughing. 

Of course we weren't the only people in the park.  First West Virginia boyfriend was there too.  The part of the day that I remember the most is watching him getting ready to walk in front of us and Gavin saying, "Can you please pretend you're having a good time?"

My hand reached over and touched his.  "I don't need to pretend," I said, my kiwi lip balm shining.

And I didn't because I was happy.  I was happy in my skin.  I was happy in that moment with Gavin and I was happy in that purple dress.    Now that I'm searching for my happiness again, I'm very much holding on to this moment--not because of Gavin or because I looked cute in that dress.  I'm holding on to it because every happy moment counts. 

I've spent a few nights awak recently trying to figure out how to get back to that girl--the smiling, shiny little light that she was.  She didn't care what people thought.  She followed her heart.

For the better part of the last decade, this hasn't been the case.  I haven't been anything but bogged down or held in place.  It's time to find my new purple dress.  It's time that I found the new--or maybe the real--me.

The search is on.  But it probably won't happen in my purple dress unless I plan on wrapping it around a thigh because that's the only place that it will fit.