What would 20 year old me think of who I’ve become?
Certainly, it’s safe to say neither of us would recognize each other. He wouldn’t imagine any common link with me, and I in turn would remember this figure through a dimly lit fog of memory. I do know that who I was wouldn’t be able to extrapolate a future that ended up as me. I am pretty sure I also wouldn’t want to be who I am now; that kind of dramatic transition is like a cold shower, and I remember how desperately I held on to my sense of self, my identity.
Looking backwards, I do not regret at all, other than the inordinant amount of time it took to go from there to here. Could I not have done this perhaps a little faster? Well, indeed, not. This was a long road, with more than a few mis-steps along the way.
Standing now at roughly the halfway mark, I wonder if I can fit all of my plans into the time remaining. ‘Time enough’ — how do you quantify that? I am horribly greedy at this stage in my life, and I would say ‘forever’.. and then wonder.
What will I say in 10 years? in 20? As i round the bend towards the end of this trip? I suspect my answer will change as I get closer to the end, and I am glad I have not been asked. One day I’m sure I’ll be glad for the end of all things, for the final end of the noise that is ‘I’. Today’s not that day.
For now there is much joy and happiness to be had.