Coffee With My Younger Self

      I met my younger self for coffee this morning.

      She showed up full of conviction, so sure of who she was supposed to be.
      Hopeful. Certain.
      Soft and kind, unaware of what was coming.

      I looked at her and felt a wave of tenderness.
      She had no idea how much she’d carry.
      How much she’d survive.

      And me? I’ve lost and rebuilt myself more times than she could imagine.
      I’m still soft, just stronger now. Wiser.

      She thought life could be earned by doing everything right.
      She didn’t know how wrong things could still go.

      I wanted to shield her.
      To hold her.
      To whisper, "You’re not broken when you fall apart, only becoming."

      She asked if I still believed.
      I told her yes… but now I believe in a love that holds me when I can’t hold it back.
      In grace that shows up without being earned.
      In healing that doesn’t look holy, but is.

      She asked if life turned out the way we planned.
      I smiled. “No… but it’s mine. And I’ve made peace with it.”

      We sat in silence, letting the weight of that settle.

      Before she left, she looked at me, eyes a little misty, and said,
      “I’m proud of who you became.”

      And I finally believed her.

      Reflecting back, I didn’t want to change her, I just wanted to meet her.

      To see her clearly.

      To remind both of us that we’re still here, still becoming, and that softness can live alongside strength.

      Maybe there’s a younger version of you who could use some kindness today too.

      If you could sit across from them, what would you say?