Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?
If I Could Re-Live a Year
At first, the question seems silly.
Why would anyone want to go back, when life has already pressed us forward through so much change, so much learning, so many quiet awakenings? Still, curiosity tugs at the edges of my mind.
If I could re-live a year, I think it would be when I was thirteen—
that threshold between innocence and awareness, when childhood was still close enough to touch but the future shimmered like a mirage, just visible, just out of reach.
I was goofy then, unguarded, untamed—
a girl who didn’t yet know the difference between foolishness and freedom.
Before she learned her family’s proclivity for teasing with a cruel edge,
and learned instead that humor could be pure expression, joy for its own sake.
If I could return with the wisdom I carry now, I would live that year differently.
I would still laugh too loudly, make up silly rhymes, skip when others walked.
Only this time, I would do it without the awkwardness born of shame.
I would understand that joy, too, is a sacred language.
I would learn boundaries early—not as walls, but as the gentle contours of self-respect.
I would know that saying no isn’t rejection; it’s direction.
I would feel the difference between my energy and another’s,
and recognize when their storm wasn’t mine to claim or calm.
How many times did I twist myself into knots, trying to make others comfortable—
to belong somewhere, anywhere?
I see now that much of what felt like rejection or disapproval
wasn’t really about me at all.
People often speak from their own pain,
projecting it onto whoever happens to be nearby.
If I could re-live thirteen, I’d carry compassion
but not the weight of other people’s weather.
I’d learn to stay steady in my own clear sky.
I’d step into my calling sooner,
sparing myself the long years of believing
I wasn’t enough, just as I was.
I would revel in my perfect body—not because it was perfect by anyone else’s measure,
but because it worked, it moved, it glowed with life.
I would run just to feel my heart pounding,
my breath caught on the wonder of knowing the possibilities ahead.
Thirteen was an age when the world, too, whispered, You can be anything.
And I believed it.
I would hold on to that belief with both hands this time,
not letting it be sanded down by the years of practicality and self-doubt that followed.
I would protect the part of me that knew magic was real,
because I had seen it—in a sunset, in a dog’s eyes,
in laughter so free it ached in my ribs.
To re-live thirteen, not with regret but with reverence—that would be enough.
Not to rewrite the past, but to honor it,
to bless that young girl for surviving what she didn’t understand,
and to thank her for keeping the spark alive
long enough for me to remember who I was meant to be.
Perhaps that’s what it means to re-live a year:
not to go backward at all,
but to let the child we once were finally feel seen
by the person who came home to herself.
Yosemite family vacay ~ 1960ish
just beautiful thank you
Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it. ♥️
Dear friend Bela, this is absolutely beautiful and deeply moving — a heartfelt reflection on self-awareness, healing, and the quiet power of embracing who we once were. Your words remind us that reliving isn’t about changing the past, but honouring it with compassion and grace.
Mahalo, Dinesh, for your kind reception and for reading the piece with thought and care. 🙏
I’m not sure I’d like to go back to those years. My first big disappointment: NO! You can’t join the Navy as your eyes are not good enough! So said the Navy recruitment officer! Possibly, I’m only getting over it now, as a 75 year old. 😉😊
Oh, sweetheart. 🥹 Who knows how military training might have utterly changed the core of who you are? Maybe really the guy did you a favor? Maybe you can finally let it go of that old ‘no’ in your face at 75. There’s something to be said for learning through these major and minor rejections, in that hopefully we continue the journey further into ourselves, into our authenticity. And celebrating it like no one else ever could! 😘
I had so wanted to be sailing the oceans! Of course, I’ve let it go and now I travel the world on WordPress! \as a sailor I would not have met you or any of the lovely folks who I follow here. I know it is so different but my favourite book then was Thor Heyerdahl’s Kon-Tiki Expedition; forget his theories but what an adventure! You have written much recently whilst I’ve been at rest. I have much to catch up. 🤗😊
Well I am certainly glad we met this way. And I understand the seafaring dream. My daughter went to Maine Maritime Academy for college, not so much to become a merchant seaman, but to play basketball for a coach she liked. They offered a business degree also so that’s what she took. But my point in this little side journey is to say at least one of her good friends became a ship’s captain, and then when she married and had kids, she anchored herself onshore for a time. I think she’s back in the ocean now though, working out a rhythm where she can be home more than she ever was. But I think that pull to the ocean is in her DNA or something. And maybe that is true for you as well. I wonder if there is a way at this late date to get you on the water for a time? Telling stories on a cruise ship? 😝 Something! If you’ve held a dream like that most of your life, it seems something might come up that will surprise you! I guess we shall see! Have a blessed week coming up, Ashley. 🙏♥️
I’ve not been able to work it out but wooden boats/ships fascinate me, to the extent that at one point I even joined a wooden boat restoration group! I stopped because my work patterns changed. Now that I’m retired from paid work (10 years ago) I’m finding more peace of mind by writing and now some drawing. 🤞Thank you Bela, you are always so helpful; compassionate and wise! 🤗😊I give thanks to Mother Earth for the gifts I have received today. 🙇♂️
Absolutely! 💗
Fun retrospection and conclusion. I would not go back to my teen years, maybe my mid twenties. And like you, the best choice is giving our earlier selves love and acceptance.
Thank you. I think I had fun when I was 13 and probably 13 only! After that, things started getting really muddy in my social sphere. I had been bussed to a jr hi school way across town with kids who were, and were nothing, like me. Of course we were all just trying to figure it out. But these kids were street tough in a way I never was, as I had been raised in the foothills of a mountain community where everybody knew everybody. So I had to scramble, which was confusing and pretty ungrounding. And yet here I am! And yet here you are! Which is the real miracle, because of what we have learned along the way. 🙏♥️
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I find thirteen to be a very interesting age to pick. With it being the in-between of childhood. But I like the interesting insight you give with how you enjoyed that age.
Thank you! Yes, I suspect we all have different memories attached to various phases of life. It’s why I answered the prompt, went first I thought it really silly. Because honestly, I would never go back to that age or any age accept the here and now. 😊🙏