The Person I Used to Be Came for a Visit
And I realized a reevaluation was in order
I’m 58. At this age, I’m feeling comfortable. Comfortable with who I am, where I am, what I stand for and what I can no longer accept. My life moves forward at a pleasant pace with sufficient variation to make it interesting and challenging but with enough familiarity for tranquility to form roots.
I feel young enough and old enough at the same time. Smart enough but still curious. Kind enough but with the good sense to speak up when I have to.
Then I get a visit from a distant relative. My husband and I pick her up at the Greyhound station. From the moment she steps into our car I know her. Even though we’ve never met. She is me. Me, almost four decades earlier. Her energy, her mannerisms, and her curiosity. Me, me, me.
She stays for four days. And during that time I’m reminded of what I used to be like. But I also realize that the person I’m slowly turning back in to still feels familiar. We still have a lot in common.
At 19 I was just like her. At that age, there was no distinction between dreams and plans. Dream it. Do it. Done. Repeat.
When I was her age, the rewards almost always outweighed the risks. Falls, even those from swindling heights, had few consequences. There…
