Somehow it's going to be OK. My future self told me so.
Actually, he didn't say much. And he didn't say those words. But sitting in the room with him - I knew. It was the way he looked at me. His smile told me what I was hoping to hear.
He looked happy and the environment felt right. It was like visiting a place for the first time, but feeling you've been there before. It felt like home. The computer, the couch, the dog, and the little girl that came in calling for daddy. Somehow it turned out OK.
My future self asked me - how is it?
How is what? I replied.
Living in the city. What did you do today? What are you feeling? What and who are you loving? I ask because I don't remember. When I think about it, it's a blur. I remember being in a rush to get here. The "next step". But I forgot about standing on the step you're on. Help me remember.
Well, I'm worried about this. I'm concerned about that. I'm not sure that I'm heading in the right direction.
Really? You're concerned about those things? I don't remember them. Hearing them now they seem a bit trivial. A high price to pay for the memories.
And my future self sat back, looked at me and continued to smile.
That was the moment I knew it was going to be OK. The stress, the worry, the fear. He has no recollection of them. He's alive and well. He's happy in his current environment.
But I sense a bit of regret. He's missing the memory of my today. The memory of what it's like to be me. I need to get that to him.
I owe him that.