Going Back In Time – Would You Like Yourself?

The following question was posted in an on-line writers group that I follow:  “Think back to when you were 21 years old.  What was the best with you back then?  What was the worst?  Would you have liked yourself if you could go back in time and meet yourself?”  The author was writing about a 21-yr-old male in the early 70’s and was looking for inspiration.

That’s an easy question.  The age and time frame were perfect for me—Sergei Kourdakov and I were both 21 in 1972.  I began composing a short comment, “First, I’ll say I was happy with the decisions I made all those years ago.  They made me who I am today.”  Then I stopped writing my response and deleted it.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized there is no easy answer for me.  If I actually went back in time it would be difficult to conceal the things I knew were about to happen.  I signed out of the discussion group for the evening.

I was intrigued.  The idea of going back in time to meet myself stayed with me.  So, if I could go back in time, what would I say to my 21-year-old self?

* * *

My time travel machine doors open to reveal I’ve arrived at my destination.  It is the fall of 1972.  I’ve just stepped into the living room of my apartment in Arlington, Virginia.  I see the shocked look on the face of a young woman with long, sandy blonde hair.  It is me, only forty years younger.

Older Self:  “Hi.  It’s me.  Or should I say, it’s you in the future.  You look shocked, but don’t be.”

Younger Self:  “How?  What?  Yes, I’m shocked.”

Older Self:  “I can’t stay long, and I can’t say anything to change the future while I’m here.  I just wanted to say hello and see how you’re doing.”  I see a smile finally creep across her face.

Younger Self:  “I love being 21.  I’m having the best time.  I really like my job with the Federal Government, and I just got my own apartment.  I’m about to go on my first date with this handsome Soviet defector I met at work yesterday.  He’s 21 also.  But you already know this…you know about Sergei Kourdakov, don’t you?”

Older Self:  “Mmmm…very much so.  Yes.”

Younger Self:  “I’m sooo happy, but I’m concerned.”

Older Self:  “What are you concerned about?”

Younger Self:  “Sergei told me he’s being followed.”

Older Self:  “All I can tell you is to keep making good choices in life.  And you’re stronger than you realize.”  The time machine starts to flash a warning.  “It’s time for me to go.”

Younger Self:  “But wait, please wait.  Before you leave I have to know one thing.  Can you at least tell me if I’ll be just as happy in the future as I am now?  That shouldn’t change the future if I know that.”

Older Self:  “You will be incredibly happy.  That’s all I can tell you.  Oh, guess what?  You’ll write a book some day.  I think I can tell you that, too.”

Younger Self:  “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.  I’m not a writer.  Oh, that’s Sergei at the door now.  Wait, don’t you want to see him before you have to leave?”

Older Self:  “I can’t, you know that.  I can’t do anything to interfere with the future.  He must not see me.”

I step into the time machine and wave to my younger self who I know has a whole wonderful life ahead of her.  In the blink of an eye I’m back in the present.  There was no way I could warn my younger self that Sergei will die from a horrible accident in a few months.  She/me will have the strength to overcome that tragedy.  I couldn’t risk Sergei seeing me either.  He would surely have noticed that split-second-flicker of concern in my eyes.  He would know that something was terribly wrong.  I could not change the course of events to come.