I met my 21-year-old self today

Life has been busy lately (I know everyone likes to say that). In one of those rare quiet moments in the evening, I was walking along the footpath to pick up my son from daycare, past trees and schools and roundabouts, with cars racing by in the crisp autumn air. Walking along, a memory leaped into my mind.

I was 21, working on a farm in the far north, during the uni summer holidays. Packing crates of courgettes and selling produce using an old-fashioned cash register; none of this fancy waving of eftpos cards over wireless eftpos machines. Listening to my ipod, I patted the farmers’ cat when he smaltzed in to see me. The farmers had a son, about 10 years old, who liked to banter with me. “What do you want to do when you leave uni?” he asked one day.

“I want to work for the government.”

“WHY do you want to do that?!” (I suspect he had problems with authority).

I can’t even remember what reason I gave him. But even back then, I had some hazy dream of being a public servant and living in Wellington. On my walk today, that 21-year-old collided with this 35-year-old self. I had honestly forgotten that conversation took place until this exact moment. Once, all I wanted was to work for the government and do meaningful, helpful work. What else did that 21-year-old want? Children. Animals. To travel the world. Confidence, and assurance of her place in the world. A decent paycheck, not minimum wage (even though I really liked working on that farm). To be outside some of the time, to be a better writer, to experience the many highs and lows of life.

It’s so easy to forget what we once wanted, and to always be looking ahead. The things we have today were once a pipe dream, and it seems like society is always pushing us to want more and to reach for more. We don’t always get want we want or in the timeframe that we want it. But 21-year-old and 35-year-old self are now deep in conversation with each other about the things she really wanted to do and be. We’re parting ways on the footpath - she’s off to drink Smirnoff Blacks with her friends and I’m off to go and hug my toddler hello. Life goes on, as normal.