Three years is a long time.
In three years, you can start a book blog, because you realize you’ve forgotten the specifics of why you love The Count of Monte Cristo so much. You can devote parts of your finite time and energy to it, above the protests of your family, because it’s important to you. You can reach out your hand tentatively towards the book blogging community, only to be yanked into a firm hug. You can sharpen your critical teeth and learn to trust your instincts. You can print your first business cards. You can discover what you want to do with your life—editing—and an equally satisfying back-up plan (librarianship). (But, of course, being you, you have a back-up to the back-up.) You can take steps to achieve those things and, wonder of wonders, take a few steps down those career paths. All because three years ago, you started a book blog.
In three years, you can grow your hair out and come to terms with the fact that, deep down inside, you’re capable of great feats of love, regardless of gender, and that, at most given moments, you feel like a Norman warrior glam rock princess. (This is how you learn to dress yourself. Life is too short for ill-fitting pants.) You can watch the hypothetical niece in your head, your own little heiress, be smashed into bits by how much you love your real nephew, who stuns you with how very possible he is. You can learn to travel in a way that doesn’t feel like you’re caught in a trap. You can learn who your friends are. You can remember your cursive and start writing letters to those friends around the world. You can decide to stand up for yourself, at last. Maybe not all because three years ago, you started a book blog (your nephew would have happened regardless, for one), but because you learned to trust your voice, and the two are utterly related.
And I couldn’t have learned that over the past three years without all of you—everyone who has ever read my blog and especially everyone who has ever commented and wanted to join in the discussion. Because truth be told, I talk to myself incessantly. I’m pretty sure my next door neighbor thinks I have multiple roommates or am just totally off my rocker. It’s unbelievably nice to have other people talk back. Thank you for helping me have a voice.
Oh—and in three years, you can have a new favorite band.
Let’s dance, people.