An email unexpectedly popped up in my inbox the other day. It was from myself. Or at least the self I was a year ago. It was a reminder to me that at that time I  was pondering about what to do with the writing business, struggling with teenage angst (that of my children, not my own, thankfully), and trying to soak up the joyful wonder of the little ones who still think I’m the best mom in the whole world.

It was sent via futureme.org, a website dedicated to helping people reach ahead through time to the person they are going to become. You send a message to yourself and schedule it to be delivered in six months, a year or even longer.

It’s a great idea. There’s so much going on now that will slip away and be forgotten as the days rush by. What would I have told myself had I started 20 years ago? Remember the parties? Remember the great ski weekends? Or would I have dwelt instead on the uncertainty, the driving, unsatisfied ambition, the loneliness?

Isn’t it be better if you could send the message in the other direction? Wouldn’t it be great if I could tell myself to relax a little bit, that it will all work out in the end? Of course, if I did that, would it? What advice would I give? Stay in that job just six more months to get retirement benefits? Save more (actually might not have been such a good idea given the current stock market)? Buy a house? Of course, as any good science fiction fan knows, offering any advice irreparably alters the present in unpredictable and potentially very bad ways. But still… maybe just a few hints? Like, savor sleeping in late on Saturdays because they day is coming when that won’t be happening anymore!