The Stops That Made Me

I was waiting to board my train. I stood at the station and looked into the windows. But instead of strangers, I saw past and future versions of me.

I saw 5 year old me. She had pigtails in her hair and was standing in the orange kitchen with her grandmother. They were baking cookies, and she was so carefree. Then they went into the garden to pick tomatoes. I noticed that grandma was still healthy, able to walk and hold her hand. It was such a bittersweet memory.

Then the train moved, and I saw 12 year old me. I was in the bedroom of my childhood best friend. She was painting my nails while we talked about the boy I had a crush on. We laughed and giggled, dreaming about our future lives, our husbands, and our kids. It’s crazy to think that we don’t even know each other anymore, but I’m still grateful the train stopped at that memory on Orchard Lane.

The train moved again.

Now it was 16 year old me, and a lot had changed. I saw a teenage girl on the floor crying over a boy who broke her heart. She called her two best friends, and they went drinking so she wouldn’t have to feel the pain. I wish I could have stopped the train and hugged that 16 year old girl. It was a painful memory. I’m surprised the train even stopped there.

Then the train arrived at the present.

It was 23 year old me. She was in college, trying to find herself. She wished she could go back to 5 and 12 year old her. She wished she could stop the train completely. But the train kept moving. It never stopped.

Then I saw 30 year old me. She was in a better place. She had two kids and lived in a small, cozy house. She had found the love of her life. It felt comforting to see that things worked out.

The train kept going.

I saw 55 year old me. My kids were grown, and I was traveling the world. I was free. I wore colorful clothes, and my children called me often. I was happy, and I was grateful that I didn’t give up at 16 or 23.

Finally, the train reached its last stop.

It was 80 year old me.

But this time, she wasn’t inside the train. She was standing next to me.

She looked at me and smiled.

“It all worked out,” she said. “We rode the waves of life, whether they were good or bad.”

She told me we had a good life. That we made new friends, went to new places, and most of all, found ourselves.

She hugged me.

And then she disappeared.