7 Years Old

Turning seven was humbling in the most adorable way. My baby teeth had made their dramatic exit, and my new adult teeth were growing in— which were awkwardly oversized for my still small face. My baby features began to fade, giving way to a mix of childish charm and a hint of the person I was becoming.

Having thick, long, and curly hair while my mom had sleek, straight hair meant hairstyling was... experimental, to say the least. Most days, I sported a "signature" messy bun that was more about survival than style. Looking back, it's a mix of endearing and funny—seven-year-old me, with a big smile, wobbly teeth, and a hairdo that screamed, "We did our best!"