the people we used to be
there are years in which I feel haunted by the ghost of the girl I was
A second-hand, silver sequinned dress arrives through the post in a paper packet. ‘Very nineties, Mum!’ laughs my youngest, seeing me twirl in front of the mirror as light-spots dance. I am reminded then of a dress almost identical—one size smaller, with spaghetti-straps in place of sleeves—a dress I wore to a party on the very last night of the nineties: New Year’s Eve 1999.
The girl who wore that silver sequinned dress was sad beneath her smile, and lost, although she didn’t understand it then. She shivered, standing coat-less in the dark garden of an isolated farmhouse, watching fireworks splutter miles away across flat fields. The girl had been expecting the end of the world, but it was only the end of the century. At midnight, she stood on tiptoe and kissed her friend—the boy who had lived next door—because he was there, and she was cold.
On New Year’s Eve I wear the long-sleeved silver dress with a pair of fluffy sheepskin slippers for supper in my kitchen with the people I love most. We laugh, and eat, and listen to music that reminds us of the years we danced on a table, rather than sitting around one. The heat from the oven warms us, and although sometimes it feels as if the world outside could—after all—be ending, inside the kitchen there is love. Later, there are sparklers, a giant disco ball, and a fire pit under the waning moon. At midnight, standing on tiptoe, I kiss the only man I ever truly loved.
There are years in which I feel haunted by the ghost of the girl I was. When December’s clock strikes twelve I can never shed my skin—snake-like—and slip into a new one; all the selves I have been are cradled away inside me still, stacked like nesting dolls. In my mind, I reach out a hand to the girl in the spaghetti-strap dress. I pull a jacket around her brittle shoulders, and guide her back towards the light.
Happy 2024, dear ones.
Thank you for reading,
Laura x
‘I think we are well-advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.’
Joan Didion
PS: I’ve taken this, my first postcard of the year, out from behind the paywall to give you a sense of the kind of content my paid subscribers receive. You can upgrade your subscription here to get weekly posts, plus access to the full archive:
This stirs so many feelings and reminds me of words by Emory Hall I read recently...
“Make peace with all the women you once were.
Lay flowers at their feet.
Offer them incense, and honey, and forgiveness.
Honor them and give them your silence.
Listen.
Bless them and let them be.
For they are the bones of the temple you sit in now.
For they are the rivers of wisdom leading you toward the sea.”
I ADORE that you wore your new sparkly dress with fluffy slippers for dinner at home on NYE!! Luxe plus practical = perfection 🧡
So much to love about this piece & a poignant reminder for me to love the previous incantations of myself as she is part of the whole of me.
Beautiful writing, thank you for blessing us with sharing 🧡