My Older Self

I saw myself in 30 years at Julius Meinl café the other day. I walked in and sat down right in front of me.

The whole experience was surreal. I know that it was me.

I continue to cut my hair shorter and shorter – resulting in a smart, choppy style that is more gray than brown, but is ideal for my lack of hairstyling ability.

I had on a great sweater – I'm betting it was handmade, evidence that I continue to work on my knitting skills. The sweater was a pretty gray. I was wearing it with baggy black pants, gray striped socks, and black clogs. I thought it funny that my current self was wearing the exact same striped socks and clogs on the same day as my future self.

I still enjoy a classic Viennese mélange (large) and a flaky apple turnover in the future. My future self could have just as easily pointed to myself seated at the other table and said "I'll have what she's having" to the waitress when I arrived and declined the menu because I already know what I want to order. I wanted to tell me that the apple turnovers were not the best today, but I knew I would order one anyway.

I used two different pair of glasses while seated at a table next to the window. It appears I eventually succumb to the need for a stylish chain on which to attach my glasses. I keep thinking (the current me, that is) that I should get a chain or maybe one of the cool necklaces I've seen with a metal loop on which to hang my glasses. I only need glasses for seeing far away – so I constantly take them off to read. And then I lose them. Sometimes, I put them on top of my head. Sometimes, I hook them on the neckline of my top. Often, I forget where I have placed them when I find myself in a situation where I want to be able to see things far away from me – like looking out a window.

My future self took a break from my work to glance out the window. (My self-diagnosis of Attention Deficit Disorder appears to hold true!) The future me forgot that my glasses were hanging from the stylish chain and searched in vain for them. I quickly gave up the search and reached into my Chicago Historical Society tote bag (it appears that David maintains his membership into the future). Just like the current me, I have two pair of glasses on me most of the time. The future me found the back-up pair and put them on to gaze out the window for a break from work – and then tried to drop the glasses from my face as though they were attached to a chain. My future self realized at that moment that both pair of glasses were in use. We laughed at ourself at the same time.

I became intrigued by my work. My future self had the largest binder I have ever seen – with a D-ring, my favorite kind because the front cover opens and lays completely flat so as to not disrupt the pages that have been restricted to the confines of the binder.

I was doing what I always do – making handwritten notes on printed draft pages. I know that they were my words because I write on a separate piece of paper when I take notes on someone else's work. Perhaps it is my seminal work. Perhaps I finally amass a large amount of data on the longitudinal effects of teaching the fascinating feature of phonology that I love so dearly. Perhaps it is something completely different from the work I wish to do now. Whatever it is, it is long. I (in the future) appear to be enjoying it as I have multiple post-it flags in a myriad of colors and pens in inks to match. Bliss.

The current me desperately wanted to steal a glance at one page – but it would have required me to get up and walk past me. And the maneuver would have been too obvious. I did not want to cause some sort of cataclysm of fate and alter my future fulfillment due to current curiosity.

The current me stayed at the café longer than the future me. I figure that I must be a very busy person. As I strolled past myself with the heavy tote bag over one shoulder, I felt a tremendous sense of calm and confidence come over my current self. Things look pretty good in the future. I look pretty good in the future.

I feel very lucky to have enjoyed a morning at the café with me, myself, and a mélange.