I was on a walk around a beautiful lake with some particularly rockin’ Pandora to keep me company when I had one of those perfectly poignant ideas pop into my brain. I was approaching a milestone birthday – it’s name was 35 (why most have to end in a 5 or 0 to be milestone, I don’t know) and I just was bursting with questions for my future self.

Thirty year old Abbie had life totally figured out. And by “figured out” I mean, girlfriend was 16 shades of exhausted and was lucky to put two feet in front of one another or form a cohesive sentence. If life were divided into 5 year chunks, say, starting at age 20, mine can be easily summed up in short phrases.

20-25 = school. more school. job.

25-30 = infertility. baby. baby. miscarriage. baby.

30-35 = survival. 3 under age 4. work-life “balance” (or lack thereof?)

35-40 = ??? tbd

But, really, this next 5 years? The possibilities! In large part, I sleep through the night or with minimal interruption.  My people can fend for themselves on the weekend mornings so I can even get 9-10 hours of sleep (and all the people say amen.) Everyone buckles themselves and no one wears a diaper. All of us can pick out and put on our own clothes.

So, on this day around the lake, I thought … I’m going to write 40 year-old Abbie a letter. I have some big questions for her. Like how’s work? How’s driving all the people all the places? Are your friends the same? How was your 15 year anniversary trip? Are you ready to enter 5 solid years with teenagers? (I mean, I already know the answer to that one.) Have you done those big things you are dipping your toe in the water of doing?

So here I am thinking I’m the great idea-haver-inventor-of-coolness … and I’m not (shocker.) Not only did someone else HAVE this idea, they marketed it. So, I bought it. And on my 35th birthday, I sat down and wrote my first letter to myself. I sealed it (with the adorable stickers provided) and will be opening in in 2022 (squeeee!)

In that same vein, my daughter’s 8th birthday was quickly approaching.  I had family and friends write her letters to be opened on her 18th birthday.  While it kills me to not peek, how fun will that be?

So, steal “my” idea … clearly someone had it before me … and enjoy having a pre-mature chat with the version of you who doesn’t yet exist.  I cannot wait to read my questions and laugh at what is important now that won’t be important then … and reminisce about 35 year-old me.

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