Future self. Write a letter to your future self, telling the future you about what you hope for you.
I was going to write this for Kate+10, but then I started thinking about what life might be like in 10 years and I kind of freaked out. Starting with the fact that I would be nearly 40 years old and then spiraling out of control from there and pondering such thoughts as “Has Kate+10 already done Kindergarten Choice with her first kid? With two kids?!” and “Has Kate+10 finished paying her student loans?” and “Did Kate+10 fix that bathroom floor yet?!” So, I think will just write this for Kate+5.
Dear Kate 2019,
Once upon a time, I wrote a letter to Future Me and now Current Me (Kate 2014) is almost that Future Me (Kate 2015). At the time of that first letter, I had all this sage and wise advice for Future Kate– how she should think and feel about her life. And of course Kate 2010 would have so much advice— she was so smart, having just gotten her Masters degree and having a big-kid job. She had it all figured out.
[Big ol’ eye roll]
But time has made me wiser, and now I know that I don’t even know what I don’t know, and so I have this terrible urge to just interview you. I have so many questions and I feel impatient for the answers.
How’s the dog?
Are you still living in that charming bungalow in South Minneapolis? Did you fix the floor?
Did you bike the Great Divide? Was it righteous?
Do have babies and are they perfect?
What do you miss the most about your late 20s? Is it something I can hold on to, or is it like those things I miss about the early 20s– just things that simply exist only for a short time?
How much more gray hair do you have now? Is it gonna get a lot worse? SHOULD I START DYING IT NOW?!
What’s the best book you read in the last 5 years?
It’s exhilarating and terrifying to think how different you and I, Future Kate and Current Kate, might be.
I am sad to think how time will treat you– the dog will probably not be the youthful goof his was on his walk this morning, inevitably people you loved will have left this world, relationships will have transformed in ways unrecognizable to either of us.
But I also hope time will be good to you– that you and Aaron continue to adventure and enjoy the little things, that as you change as individuals and as a family you haven’t forgetten the silliness you share now, that you remain fulfilled in your work, friendships, and activities.
I know that time will change you– maybe you’re a mom now, maybe you’ve run a second marathon (and crushed it, you BAMF), maybe you eat mushrooms (but I don’t think you do; you’re smarter than that). I hope that you are more open to change than I am now and are learning more about the passing seasons of life. But I can’t help but secretly hope you don’t change too much or because you feel you have to. You don’t. You’re fine.
Future Kate, be kind to all the Past Kates as you travel this journey. Don’t second guess us or wish we had made another choice. Learn from us– our victories and failures are your ingredients for growth.
It is good. It is so good.
All the love,