If I Was to Travel Back in Time

I’d see a few things: 

The sweet girl my father claims I used to be. 
The daughter who adored her dad, 
making guitar sounds as a way of insisting 
he play his favorite musician 
in the downstairs tv room. 

The supposed nonchalance towards the oohs and aahs from strangers. 
Simply looking at them.
I was unimpressed by their fawning.

The school meeting 
where the teacher said, 
“This girl is going places.” 

I wonder if the cloud those words created 
would be visible, so many years ago. 
Little me, burdened with glorious purpose 
and the weight of the world's expectations.