an extended version of "i got coffee with my younger self"
i got coffee with my younger self today.
she arrived 20 minutes early, i was right on time.
"you're almost late," she said, not annoyed, but rather astonished and curious, almost in awe. "why?"
"my dog didn't want to come back inside," i said. "there's more to life than meetings; there's moments like my senior dog playing in the snow that matter more."
"we got a dog," she said softly to herself.
we walked up to the counter together to order our coffee. i walked ahead of her; she faded behind me while i ordered. i ordered a large iced coffee with cream and caramel syrup; she ordered a small hot coffee, black. i ordered a pastry for myself, but she didn't want any, although she eyed mine as we sat down.
when we sat down at the table, she adjusted her chair uncomfortably. she set her coffee on the table, opened the lid, and poured a packet of stevia in. she stirred, took a sip, and seemed to ponder whether she could add another packet.
"do you want to switch?" i asked. she shook her head at first, but relented and took my drink. she sipped and smiled. the smile cracked across her face, brightening her pale, fragile skin; she looked like she hadn't smiled in years.
"so, did we graduate? with honors? valedictorian?" she asked consecutively, a certain intensity behind her tone.
"we were third in our class in high school," i told her and saw her face drop and her smile fade. "we got into the honors program in college, but we had to drop out of it."
"to take care of myself," i said. "there was so much more going on than you know right now. there are things you've already forgotten, and there are things that will happen that you want to forget. but they haunt you for a while."
she nodded but avoided my eyes. "i know what you mean."
"i dropped classes and left the honors program to survive. it took me an extra semester to graduate. but it's okay," i reassured her.
"so... you didn't go to vet school, then," she said dejectedly, assuming my academic failures had quashed all hope of fulfilling the dream we'd had since we were hardly old enough to even articulate that dream.
"no," i began, "i start this fall."
the smile i'd seen earlier returned. her face glowed. she looked so different when she smiled.
i spoke the words i knew she wanted to, but couldn't: "i'm proud of us."
she looked pained by the thought of making someone proud. "i'm proud of you, even the you right now," i told her.
"no, you're not," she deflected, but i could tell it meant something to her. after all, she was me, or i was her. she needed to hear it. desperately. she needed to know that she would survive this, even if it felt like the end, right then and there.
"i know everyone says this, and a lot of them don't mean it, or they're trying to convince themselves of it, or they say it and their actions don't show it, but you will be okay, and you will get better, and someday, you will find someone who cares for you and makes every single moment of the struggle worth it. and you will achieve your dream."
"you sound like you're convincing yourself now of the last part," she mumbled. she was always afraid of speaking up.
"you're right," i admitted. "that's how i got through it all. i had to convince myself when no one else could. and that's how i know that i will. i know i'll finish vet school, and i know i'll do all the things i dreamed of."
"even get married?" she asked. she was uncomfortable by the thought. i knew that to her, marriage and love were sacred. they are to me now, too. but in that moment, her idea of love had been shattered; she believed she was forever dirty and broken and that she would never be loved. the thought of marriage was impossible to her. she believed she'd never feel love, and in turn, never achieve her second, secret dream she refused to share with anyone: motherhood.
"i think so," i told her with a smile. "not today, but soon. there's someone who loves us now, and cares for us, and helps us. when you meet him, you'll know. it will feel like he's been your best friend your whole life. the second he hugs you, you'll know you're home."
she smiled at the thought of a person who felt like home. there had never been such a place like that, but to find a person who was home, well, it was even better.
"and..." she trailed off. she was afraid to ask. she knew she wouldn't believe the answer either way, but she asked anyway: "will we get better? like, forever?"
"yes," i started, "and no." her face fell. "yes, because we're going to be okay. but no, it won't be perfect forever. but i promise, someday, there will be someone who sees you for who you are and the things you've experienced, but he won't judge you or belittle you or believe that you are only an extension of your experiences. you'll be able to process the trauma-"
"i don't have trauma," she snapped defensively.
"it's okay if you don't believe me. but you did not deserve what happened to you."
she looked at me angrily, but there were tears in her eyes. she didn't need to say anything; i knew it all already.
"anyway," i said gently, "things will get better. they won't be perfect, and there will be ups and downs. the highs are high and the lows are so, so horribly low. but you'll get through it."
i sipped her black coffee with the faintest hint of sweetener. she hadn't touched her coffee again.
"are you going to drink that?" i asked.
"it's okay. someday, you'll know that you are more than your body, but for now, have some water."
i poured her a glass from the carafe, and she took a sip.
"let's go home," i said, and i watched her go. i knew she would be okay.
sorry corny af just needed to exercise some writing muscles lol
