Without really realizing it, I've been trying to communicate with the future older me lately. I've been very conscious of how so much has been the same for me these past seven years and sensing a change is on the horizon, although not knowing what that change should be! In the spirit of my letter to 16 year old me post, I thought I'd try out a letter to older me post today, so here it goes!
Dear Older Me,
Should I start out with the obligatory flying car future joke? I don't think I will because that's not one of my burning questions. And, I'm pretty sure that you still have an awesome sense of humor, Older Me, so I know if you laugh, it will be only to be polite. These are my burning questions for you: Do you have a child? Do you have more than one? Where do you live? Have you made any money from your writing yet? I know you still write, but do you still blog? Is Global Warming worse?
Since you can't tell me the answers to these questions just yet, I thought I'd tell you about your life right now. About things I don't want you to forget when you read this, Older Me.
You can spend your Saturday mornings in absolute silence. You can sit at the computer and write whenever you want to. Alex usually sits at his computer and does the same sort of thing for a while until you both decide to stay in your pajamas a little bit longer and watch TV over scrambled eggs and toast. You can also have a Saturday where you spend the morning writing and vegging, and the afternoon exercising. Are Zumba and yoga still around in the future? And then your evening hanging out with friends. I guess what I'm trying to say is, that you have a special selfish life, and you have for a pretty long time.
I'm getting the sense that you don't live in New York City anymore, Older Me, but maybe I'm wrong about that. After living in the city for seven years you still have moments where you marvel at how big and amazing it is, or stop to think about how special it is too. Just last night, Older Me, while weaving my way through a crowded subway platform with a friend as we walked to a connecting train together, I had a moment of realizing just how New York that action was. How both my friend and I knew exactly how to weave, exactly how fast to walk and exactly where to avoid the homeless person on the bench, and old person walking very slowly. When we both split around that bench for a moment, conversation pausing and then seamlessly reconnected, I laughed at what a New Yorker I am and at the freedom of being young and grown up at the same time.
I want you to remember Older Me, that you have good friends, an amazing husband and an interesting life. Your most recent Friday night consisted of sparkling rosé and conversation, viewing the Emancipation Proclamation on display at the New York Public Library, and then eating delicious soul food in Harlem. And yet when I feel myself craving change I'm afraid that I might lose some of that. I want you to tell me, Older me, that I won't lose anything from change but will only gain. I want you to tell me that not changing things when you feel an itch is the same as succumbing to fear, and that you try not to live your life that way. I think you would say that leaving New York would change EVERYTHING and that is good. Or would you say, "Stay! You don't know how good you have it! You love it here!" I just don't know.
Older me, younger you, is not used to her body getting older and what a 30 year old's metabolism and healthy exercise schedule is like. Are you still obsessed with losing 5-8 pounds? Have you lost it and learned how to keep it off? Or do I sound completely ridiculous to you? And losing 5-8 pounds is something you never ever think about?
One thing that I know already, Older Me, is that no matter how old I am, I know I'm still going to be figuring things out. I'm still going to have questions, so that while some of these questions I'm asking you right now, you'll have to answers to, I know that you'll also have an entirely different set of questions that you'll want to be asking even older you. I suppose that is a comforting thought.
Since you can't give me the answers right now, I guess I'll just figure it out myself. See you in the future, Older Me.