Future Me Just Texted: She’s Running Late but Doing Great

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

Ten years from now, I see myself sipping coffee that hasn’t gone cold — because no one interrupted me mid-sip. The kids will have grown — or at least learned how not to scream through a closed bathroom door. I might finally figure out the mysterious art of folding fitted sheets (or make peace with the fact that even the universe doesn’t understand them). My hair? Possibly greyer. My heart? Definitely fuller. My soul? Aging like fine wine, with notes of wisdom and a hint of sarcasm.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” – Carl Jung

I imagine a home filled with plants I haven’t accidentally killed, a bookshelf that groans under the weight of stories — some mine, some borrowed, all beloved. Maybe I’ve authored a book by then — not a bestseller, but one that made one tired woman somewhere whisper, “This was just what I needed today.” That, my friends, is Pulitzer material in my world.

And love? I hope I still get butterflies — not just from my partner’s smile but also from the aroma of hot samosas on a rainy day.

“Love doesn’t make the world go ’round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.” – Franklin P. Jones

Ten years from now, I want to be the woman who cheers the loudest at her children’s performances, even if they’re singing “Baby Shark” off-key in college. I want to be the one who others come to not because I have all the answers, but because I listen without checking my phone.

I want to still be dancing — maybe not in high heels, but barefoot in my kitchen, while the dog wags its tail to my off-beat rhythm. I’ll burn some meals, forget some names, miss a few deadlines — but I’ll remember what truly matters: kindness, laughter, forgiveness, and an occasional filter-free Instagram post.

There will be more laugh lines etched into my face — evidence of a life well-lived, not just well-posed. And if I meet the younger me somewhere in a dream, I’ll tell her gently:

“The pressure to have it all figured out is the thief of joy. Breathe. Dance in your chaos. Trust that it’s building your symphony.”

And here’s a thought to ponder:

What if the best version of you isn’t found in a decade, but uncovered slowly, moment by moment, with every story you live, every scar you earn, and every silent act of courage you perform when no one is watching?

Because maybe, just maybe, the destination isn’t ten years from now.

Maybe…it’s today.