Dragonfly Chronicles
Part One: The Egg
The dragonfly has a fascinating transformation. Despite them usually being seen flying about, dragonflies spend most of their lives underwater.
As the mother dragonfly, who has already explored the skies, returns to the water’s edge to lay her eggs while her partner holds and guards her as she does. A beginning of something neither of them will see finished. The eggs lie in waiting for their time to start exploring the marshy waters. Then, in the quiet, murky water a larva sheds its skin several times in order to prepare to become something else entirely. In its preparation it becomes a predator. Attacking other bugs in the water and even small fish. A nymph’s stage lasts months, sometimes years. Then one day, they climb up a blade of grass, break through their last skin, and then fly away.
First, the egg. The smallest, earliest beginning. Nothing moves yet, but everything is already there.
Some things are written into you before you even begin. For me, my creativity was always there just not yet fully formed, not yet visible to anyone else, but present from the start.
Like a dragonfly, I’ve spent most of my life developing beneath the surface. And no matter what stage I was in, the creativity was always there: fashion, art, and writing were the three things that stayed constant, the things that made me feel most like myself.
I have always loved clothes. As a kid and all the way to adulthood. While I didn’t grow up with the fanciest clothes at hand, I always made do with what I had. I mostly grew up on hand-me-downs from my older sisters, or thrift stores. Though, I did feel super cool when thrifting became popular since I was already doing it. I grew up thrifting with my mother and my hometown friends, loving the hunt for interesting pieces and hidden gems that I could make feel casual, cool, and unique. I built my whole wardrobe brick by brick. Rack by rack. Hour by hour in the local Salvation Army and Goodwill. Scoring a nice pair of denim, or a perfectly fitted dress felt like a victory. When people asked, “Where did you get that?” I’d say, “It’s thrifted,” and felt even prouder knowing I found something one-of-a-kind without putting a dent in my wallet. Call me frugal, I’ll call it a bargain.
Growing up, a lot of my art would go to my family or friends. Especially my older sister who would ask me for paintings from time to time. She even commissioned one from me and it happens to be my best and favorite piece I have ever done. I used to take art classes from the seventh grade until I graduated high school. It always had to be one of my electives. I would learn and work with color pencils, oil pastels, watercolor, but my favorite medium is acrylic paint. When I don’t know what to create it becomes more abstract interpretations of how I am feeling. Other times I lean towards serene landscapes My art style is inspired by minimalism and texture. Painting is meditative for me. Mixing and blending colors into entirely new shades— something that couldn’t be replicated without the same knowledge and intention the artist holds.
There were times I couldn’t talk about the things I wanted to say aloud, especially my wants and needs throughout my childhood, so writing became my only strength. I grew up hiding my voice. I was always known as “shy” when I knew that wasn’t always the case. I love being social. But when I started journaling, my voice finally felt heard. Writing became my source of expression. When I first became consistent, I couldn’t stop writing, even when my wrist ached.
Learning and practicing all these skills has led me here — to lay these eggs near fertile waters and let them grow. To share with others a place to rest in knowing they aren’t alone.
Chronicles of the Marsh is where my story lives, but not where it begins.
The journey begins now.
