In ten years I’d like to see my name on a paycheck coming from somewhere that requires me to do something I enjoy. I’d like to see driving banned so my boy who will then be 16 will not be on the roads. I’d like my house to be 100% renovated, my garden 100% tilled and fenced and me looking like I did 10 years ago before the dawn of minions.
Is that so much to ask?
Ten years seem impossible. How can ten years from now actually ever exist? Decades on decades must pass before we get there… right?
And then I look back. 10 years ago I was in college (of sorts), without minions, without a husband, living in my mother’s house, working for the “man” and traveling with the band. That had to be only yesterday…
Yet there’s some small person sitting in front of me, he looks almost like me, skinny with ridiculously long legs. He’s calling me mom, and telling me about school and the weather. There’s another one in the other room, resembling me in the hair and eyes, she’s running and climbing while cussing some one out on her pretend cell phone. (baby talk sort of cussing of course) There’s bills sitting behind my coffee… and wait, I’m drinking coffee, when did that happen? And this house, it defiantly does not belong to my mother, otherwise that pile of laundry would not be sitting there. And why can I no longer remember the name of that band? And am I wearing a robe?!
10 years go by much too quickly.
As does my 10 minutes in which to write this.