“I Met My Younger Self For Coffee”
Hello wanderer of the internet! I’m not sure if any of you in your other endeavors of scrolling and wandering the world wide web have come across it, but currently there is a trend going around (mainly on Tiktok) called “I Met My Younger Self For Coffee”. It’s been circling for a few months now, and back when the trend hit it’s peak, I became inspired to write a longer-form prose version of it. I originally shared it on Facebook, but deleted the post shortly after and have since added onto it. It is a creative writing piece I feel very connected to and proud of, and so today I will revive it by sharing it here. *TRIGGER WARNING: Implications of domestic violence, trauma. Please read at your own discretion and listen to your body and mind as you consume.
I met my younger selves for coffee today…
I arrived 10 minutes late, with my long hair flowing down, and makeup done. I had a baby boy on one hip, the other arm holding the hand of my 3-year-old daughter, and my oldest son, age 4, walking alongside me.
16 year old me arrived 10 minutes early, wearing a grey hoodie and short hair, hunched over as if to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. She avoids eye contact with everyone, letting her baggy clothes swallow her figure in the chair.
I sit down across from her, and situate my children. She asks me how life is, and if it gets better than what it is right now.
I told her she finds out who she is, and it's everything she'd never expect and so much more. She asks me if we still do art and music, I tell her we do, and about our three kids and our amazing fiancé. I show her my sketchbook from my purse as she holds my phone and swipes through countless colorful photos.
She listens mouth agape in awe, as she never expected to make it to her 18th birthday, let alone to go beyond that and become someone so happy and optimistic. She laughs and shows confusion at the kids and ring, as she didn't think she'd ever want a family or love. She asks me if things get harder before they get better, because it's hard to believe we became SO MUCH.
Just then, my phone rings. It's my 20 year old self calling. I put her on speaker. She tells us she wanted to come, but that last minute her boyfriend said no, and she didn't want a fight. We listened to her sad tone, and told her it was okay, and we hoped she could make it next time. Suddenly we hear yelling, loud noises, and a child crying in the background before she whispers "I'm sorry, I've got to go" and the phone clicks. Silence overcomes our table.
16 year old me sits wide-eyed, her prior question answered for her. I see the fear in her eyes, the confusion. I don’t need to imagine the millions of questions and anxieties racing in her head, because I’ve lived them all before. I hold her hands and look at her, trying to stop myself from shedding a tear.
"Who we become on the other side of it all is worth every hardship and setback. You are going to go through hell, but that hell is not going to go through you."
She looks at me, puzzled. I can tell she is having trouble believing me the way I believe me. But I notice her posture relax a bit, as she considers all that I have shared. She doesn’t feel that logically my claims could be probable, but she knows in her heart they must be. After all, the me that is standing in front of her certainly isn’t afraid, or sad, or damaged.
We exchange a warm hug before parting ways. As I’m leaving, I check my messages and see a long text from 20-year-old me, apologizing for the sudden cancellation and the circumstances.
“Everything is going to be okay. There will be plenty more beautiful days for coffee.” I click send.
