I was paging through some pictures I took a few years ago, and my gaze fell upon a picture of you. You were nearly three times your current height; so overgrown, no doubt burdened by the weight of your years.
I know that feeling well.
But look at you now. You're sporting a youth and vitality that you haven't had for quite some time.
I look at you, and I realize - I want to be new. Why can't I be young again? Why can't I push back the hands of time while benefiting from wisdom gained through my many years?
For you, the trick was as simple as repotting. You traded a cheap blue pot for a stylish red one, and somehow, the weight of your years came right off (ok, it was really my scissors that took your years off, but come on... work with me here... it's a metaphor!)
I tried repotting myself last fall. I traded my home of bricks and drywall for glass and concrete, and though my home is better than it's ever been, I am the same.
I am not new.
Why was it so easy for you?