I Met My Younger Self

I met my younger self for coffee today.

She was fifteen minutes early and I was five minutes late

She ordered a chai and gawked at my black coffee.

We sat in the cozy chairs in the corner,

I tucked my legs up underneath me, and after a moment, she followed.

We both knew she was more comfortable that way anyways.

She asked about where we were in life,

Do we have our degree? Our own space? A husband? A dog?

I hardly had the heart to tell her.

After the world shuts down, you lose it. Your path. Your dreams.

Years pass and you’re still trying to figure it out.

You try new things again and again,

And fall flat on your butt every time.

She cried. I did too.

I apologized for failing her.

It took a while before she could compose herself.

I gave her the time. She needed it.

But hey, I promised. It’s not all bad.

You find your people.

You start to travel, and learn to bake.

You become a crazy plant lady.

You write a book with your friend, even if it never gets published.

You discover your favorite band and stand front row at their concert.

She looked at me. Said we still look tired.

Yeah. The nights are long, that hasn’t changed.

I promised things will get better.

I think it’s addressed to me as much as it is to her.

We haven’t figured it out yet. But hang in there.

We stayed at the coffee shop for a long time.

I let her leave first. She didn’t need anyone else walking away.

I watched her roll away in her mini cooper,

The sunroof open, highlighting her bleach-burned hair.

I finished my cold brew and tipped the baristas.

I walked to my second-hand old-lady car, which I hate but it runs,

And I turned on my favorite band.

I promise myself things will get better.