I met my younger self for coffee today. 

Rather, she got tea, I ordered coffee. 

She asked when we switched. I explained I wasn’t sure when, but tea has always held a place in my heart and will always be my first choice. Some days just feel like coffee days now. Someday, she’ll understand.

She was 10 minutes early and selected a table in the back, out of the way. I almost couldn’t find her as I was 5 minutes late. She found comfort in my words when I sat down and commented, “I love this table. It’s so cozy back here.”

Immediately, her eyes found my wedding rings. “Did my boyfriend give us that?” She asked with her eyes lighting up. I held her young, 21-year-old hand and explained, “No, your boyfriend did not give you this. But someday you will meet a man who will give you so much more than anything you could ever imagine.”

Her eyes cast down to the table, letting my words sink in. She doesn’t know what I do – that in a few short months, her world will be upended. That whom she thought was the love of her life will send her careening to rock bottom. I remember feeling an overwhelming pressure to walk in my mother’s footsteps and be wed by 23. I thought I had it all planned perfectly. He would propose this year, and everything would be right on schedule. Noticing a tear in her eye, I squeeze her hand. “It will all work out,” I say. “Trust me. You have so much more to accomplish than just being a wife.”

“Well if that doesn’t work out, is our job at least good? I love it now and they want me to move. Is it worth it? Do you regret it?” Her rapid-fire questions spill onto the table like one of us has knocked over a cup. 

I choose my words carefully, “Your heart will never leave this town, and it never has to. But the growth and love and friendship that waits for you there are things I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.” I press forward, “We’ve lived in another state for 9 years, and lived many different lives. However, there is always going to be a part of you that will forever wonder what if? What if we never moved away? What if we took the safe route? If you learn anything from me today, learn this – when faced with the choice of being comfortable, or growing, always choose growth. Always.”

She sips her black tea carefully, pondering my words. I take a peek at her nails and sneak a small smile. Younger me has just started painting them black – little does she know that this will become a key element of her personality and even to this day I wonder if we’ll ever pick a new color. We relax into a comfortable silence for a while, and I can see her retreat inside herself, unsure of what to ask next. 

“You have two dogs,” I tell her. This gets her attention. “Do you want to see pictures?”

“Absolutely!” She exclaims. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”

I hand her my phone queued up to a slideshow of numerous images of the four-legged friends in her future life and watch as happiness emanates from her face. We spend several minutes here, and I take a moment to notice her. My memory has gone hazy as the years have passed, and for the first time, I truly observe her youthfulness with appreciation. I always thought I looked so much older then.

She’s wearing a full face of makeup and an outfit entirely from Forever 21. I hardly wear makeup anymore, and I ponder when that shifted. Our styles aren’t that different either – each of us chose a black shirt and jeans for today’s occasion. We have the same haircut, but that hasn’t always been the case. From afar, a stranger would most certainly confuse us as sisters. 

When she finishes the photos she hands my phone back to me. I take this moment to break the news to her – one day, the job she thinks is so amazing, will crush her spirit. “You will need to move on, and that will be one of the scariest things you do. But remember what I said about growth. Always choose the path of growth.” 

She nods, responding, “Then why did we bother to move? What is the point if I’m just going to leave? Why would I put myself through that much trouble and heartbreak?”

These are great questions with a simple, concise answer. “Your life is waiting for you there,” I state plainly.

We spend the rest of our time together comparing and contrasting hobbies, favorite things, and friends in our lives. She is shocked when I tell her some things we’ve accomplished that she didn’t think were possible. She is overjoyed when I reaffirm the strength of the friendships that she spent so much time forming. We’re laughing and smiling, and it feels quite like meeting up with a friend you haven’t seen in a while. Comfortable. Safe.

I walk her to her car, a black Corolla, and she laughs when she sees my newer black Corolla parked right next to hers. We hug goodbye, and it’s one of those hugs you wish would never end. “Come back and see me sometime,” she says.

“Of course,” I respond, unsure if I can keep this promise. 

As I slip into my car, I steal one last look at her over my shoulder. She’ll never know how much this conversation meant to me, even though I am vividly aware of how much this meant to her. Driving away, I watch her in my rear view mirror. It’s been nearly 11 years since I’ve been in her shoes, and I can’t help but hope that maybe one day, my future self will meet me for coffee.

That maybe one day, I’ll be as lucky as her.