THEN:
NOW
For the past few days I’ve been thinking about what I would tell my twenty-year-old self. What could I say to help her?
And then I began wondering what she might she say to me? Would she be pleased with how things have turned out for us?
With these thoughts circling my tired brain, my husband I went to see a friend play the mandolin.
As I turned the review mirror to get a good look at myself, I saw her. My
twenty-year-old self. She stared back at me with a huge smile on her face.
“Finally,” she said. “We’re going to have some fun. Like we used to.”
I looked over at my husband. Totally unaware that my face had shed forty years.
I turned back to the mirror and touched up my lipstick
“Good color,” my younger self said.
“You think?” I answered.
She nodded. “Remember those old days, hanging out in bars, listening to live music?”
“Of course,” I say. “We partied too much.”
“There’s no such thing as partying too much,” she said, pressing my foot onto the gas pedal.
And off we went.
I thought about my bed, my pillow, that book I left open on the nightstand.
“Stop that,” my younger self pleaded. “So, what ever happened to our drummer?”
“You marry him, unfortunately. And your heart is going to break into a zillion pieces. But you’ll survive.”
“I want more than survival,” she said. “And I want true love.”
“That comes, but much later. When you stop looking for it.”
“And happiness?”
“It’s a bumpy road, but you get eventually get there. Once you stop worrying about what everyone thinks of you.”
Half an hour later, we pulled into the parking lot. Music flowed onto the street.
“I’m okay with all that,” my younger self said. “I just don’t want to stop having fun.”
I thought about what she said as I sat in the bar. I let the music carry
me back to those nights, listening to our boyfriend play the drums. Dancing until the sweat poured down our
face, drenched our clothes, gave us a such a high that we knew we could keep on partying all night.
I sipped a martin or two. Flirted a little. Wondering why that dirty old man on the bar
stool was flirting with a twenty year old.
All too soon, it was time to go home.
“Hey,” I said to my younger self. “Where are you?”
“Leave me alone,” she said. “I’m tired.
“I’m not. I thought you liked to party.”
“I do. But I’ve got to get some rest if I want to look as good as you in the future.”
With that, I tossed my husband the keys and let him drive while I closed my eyes and joined my younger self in
some much needed beauty rest.
And I have to think that she’s happy with how our life turned out.
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Love it!!!
Want to read more.
This was terrific! I also wondered to myself why my 20-year old would have to say back to me. Wouldn’t it be sort of terrific to get to have that conversation? Maybe not.
Sigh. I always loved the drummer (not your drummer, but “the” drummer). They have great rhythm and good hands. They aren’t as egotistical as the lead singer or the lead guitar, but they are in a band just the same.
But having had my heart broken by a drummer or two I would go back and tell my daughter to stay away from musicians altogether. But what fun would there be in that?? Maybe I should just tell her never to fall in love with one.
Great letter! Thanks for participating. It’s been a great way to get to know you better.
Having fun has such a different meaning at 50 than at 20, doesn’t it! I too spent many nights in many sweaty bars – the idea of doing that now is enough to send me to bed. Love the way you wrote this – very entertaining!
Nice idea Janie! I like the way you turned the question around. I like to think my 20-year-old self would say, “Glad you survived all of that and finally did find happiness! GOOD JOB!”
Laura Lee
Love this Janie..
Walker- Thanks so much. If all goes well, I may have a book out in the near future. I’ll be sure to let you know.
Chloe – Well, my drummer turned out to be a real shit. But that’s a story for another day.
Sharon – But oh how we loved those sweaty bars, didn’t we. Not so much anymore.
This is a great twist on the theme, Janie! Thanks for doing it this way–it’s given me some real food for thought.
I have the feeling my 20-year-old self would have been relieved at how things turned out, but also probably terrified and intimidated by the 55-year-old me. The fun stopped for her when she moved in with the starter husband, and didn’t really start again for another 10 years or so.
Karen
Hi Karen –
I can relate to that starter husband. I’m glad the fun started up again.
Love it!! I am going to start talking to my 20 year old self!! I don’t think she is too mad at me! lol!
Creative approach. Love this. It is indeed that worrying about what everyone else thinks of us that can often create the most bumps in that ever-so bumpy road. Great post!
I love that you collaborated and negotiated with your younger self. Teamwork!
Janie, this was great. There are times when I close my eyes and transport myself back into time. Sometimes it’s a familiar smell or a sound or a look — that’s all it takes.
What a fun read Janie! I don’t know if my 20 year old self would listen to me and I am not sure I would recognize her.
Haralee- I’m pretty certain my younger self would not have listened to me!
Helen- God, yes. Sounds and smells and music. They can take me back instantly.
Nicely done! I think my 20 year old self would tell me to start doing some more situps!! LOL.
LOL! I think I actually started doing them in my twenties.
Wonderful…made me think about what my 20 year-old self and I would have discussed, too. But I think mine would have been more argumentative with me than yours was. Still, like us, they would have been friends! =)
My twenty-year-old self was so shy. I guess it takes age to come into oneself.
Love the blog, Janie! I’m going to think about this for a while because the topic is really niggling me.
And wish my 20 year old self had said you can’t eat like that forever. lol
Thanks, Vicki. I would have told my 20 year old self to keep eating!
That conversation was perfect. Loved every second.
Thank you so much. Hopping over to your site now.
Your 20-year-old self sounds like an entertaning, fun-loving chick … so, I guess some things you never outgrow!
Yeah, my twenty-year-old self would probably tell me I need to exercise more.
I think maybe she liked to have too much fun!
This was so much fun to read. It really made me smile. Great thought to wonder what the 20-year old we think of us now. I’ll have to reflect on that.
Wouldn’t it be fun to really go back and meet ourselves?
I would tell my 20-year-old self (1) not to worry about other people to the point of doing harm to her/myself–if the voice teacher isn’t doing you good, get a new one; (2) don’t be afraid, Don’t Be Afraid, DON’T BE AFRAID–there isn’t really that much to be afraid of. (3) Repeat (1) and (2).
Great advice. I was afraid of everything at twenty. But I think it takes age to figure out there is nothing much to be afraid of.
Love the writing technique you used! And it reminded me of wrapping cords and packing up vans for friends who were in bands way back when.
OMG! I remember those days, too!
Nice post, Janie. I just found it! I often look in the mirror and ask myself…what happened? When did we get so old!!! Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for your comment and for stopping by. Yes, when did we get so old?