How do we reconnect with who we once were?

And can it help us be more grateful for who we’ve become?

My daughter Reese will be 21 in December and she is nothing like the young woman in this photo - me on my 21st birthday, over 30 years ago.

I just want five minutes with this wafer-thin woman with giant hair, who was convinced she was a vulnerable, peeled grape of a girl. She would navigate her way through the next decade certain she wasn’t enough - or worse, that she was too much.

I can see now what she did not: the wiry steel running through her, from scalp to toes. She is resilient, relentless even.

But she’s a few years from recognizing her softness as strength, or her empathy as an asset.

I want to take her in my arms and whisper into her ear what my daughter already knows well (thank goodness): You are enough. You are exactly, uniquely enough.

And also: there’s going to a be a thing called the internet. So if someone offers you stock in something called a Google, please - for all that is holy - buy it.