I Met My Younger Self For Coffee

I met my younger self for coffee.

She kept squirming.

I steadily placed my hand on hers.

She had her stick-straight hair pinned back with barrettes.

I wore mine loose.

“Where to begin?” I asked.

“Let’s start with the most important thing,” she whispered. “Are we happy?”

“Yes.” I paused. “But not in the way that you’d think.”

We don’t have a groom yet, but how will we ever narrow down bridesmaids? We’ve read so many books, danced to the Lumineers live, and cycled around Rhode Island.

“What about volleyball? My GPA? …Him?”

“We quit, don’t worry about it so much, and, um, which him are we talking about?”

She giggled. I grinned.

“Mom and Dad?”

“Run errands with Mom and tell her she’s beautiful. Hug Dad every night before bed.”

“Every night? Like, forever?”

I sighed.

“Trust me, forever is not always as long as it seems. Every. Single. Night.”

She bit her lip.

“Will I ever be at peace?”

She stared at me with the same blue eyes I saw reflected in them. I hated that she didn’t know for sure.

“Yes, we are at peace. Not as an emotion, not every second, but as a state, as an enduring quality. Find your peace in the Lord, and He will give you rest.”

She nodded pensively.

“I would like to rest,” she whispered.

“You can now, child.”