Life | Making Friends With My 65-Year-Old Self

This week, I made friends with my 65-year-old self. 

She loves swimming in the ocean and has a gorgeous gray streak in her sandy blonde hair. She wears bangles around the house because her plants like the percussion and she's learned that spritzing leaves is simply way more fun with music that echoes your moves. 

The neighbor girls know to come “shop” her wardrobe for special occasions, and they love an excuse to return the next morning with juicy stories about their antics. Plus, everyone gets a kick out of seeing these cute young things taking those decades-old dresses for a spin. 

Speaking of style: By then, her uniform has evolved to a quirky selection of mostly black and white – lots of texture and tonal patterns, with plenty of animal print and a pop of color from time to time.

Her appearance becomes effortless and she spends more time gazing into the eyes of people she loves than looking at her own reflection in the mirror. 

She finally sees that inner beauty actually looks better when shining brightly through the layers of a wrinkly tan that has seen the world.

By that time, my 65-year-old self is very comfortable in her earthly shell of skin and bones. The older she gets, the more familiar her body seems and it feels great to live inside a person that you've known your entire life. 

The most precious part of meeting her this week was when I realized I'm on my way to becoming someone that I've admired in my dreams for so long. 

A calm, non-anxious presence who is always quick to share a laugh. Compassionate and justice-minded, with a creativity that is sprawled out and strung up and artfully displayed throughout the entire house. 

I'm comforted by the warmth that is evident on her face and felt in her arms. I'm relieved and encouraged when her earnest emotions peek out from their confident exterior. I'm honored and energized each time I see she's being fueled and led (and also continually transformed) by a very specific sort of love. 

It’s a love my heart craves, now that I’ve had a tiny taste.

This kind of love is begging the now-me to lean in and look forward, as I finally see where we’ll wind up if I follow her lead and trust what’s on it’s way.