As a prelude to this story, my grandmother in Kansas once told me that buffalo were walking through the living room of her house. She said the past is alive even though we can’t see it, and the future is there also. We are prisoners of the present with blinders to the flow of time.  It was a concept that I, as a seven-year-old, couldn’t wrap my head around, but it stayed with me all these years. When I read this prompt, that old memory came to mind. I wrote about the intersection of time for a ten-year-old girl and her eighty-year-old self.

Looking a little lost, a ten-year-old girl, born and bred in Wichita, Kansas, wandered through an outdoor marketplace in Tucson, Arizona. She was supposed to meet with a woman who knew her in Kansas, but she couldn’t remember why or who.  A woman, old enough to be her grandmother or even great-grandmother, came up to her and took her hand.

Initially, the girl pulled away. “Who are you?” Her voice trembled.

“I am the future you,” the elderly woman said gently.

The girl’s heart picked up a rapid beat. Am I dreaming?  But when she looked into the woman’s eyes, she felt an unexplainable recognition. The woman was her, a stranger with gray hair and a wrinkled face, and yet she saw herself. How is this possible? The marketplace around them seemed to blur, sounds faded, and the people became indistinct.

The woman quietly walked the girl to an open park area where a picnic was set out on a wooden table. Chicken salad sandwiches on toasted bread, chocolate chip cookies, fresh orange slices, and chocolate milk – exactly what the girl loved.

“We only have a few minutes. Then the veil that separates our time will come between us again. Do you have any questions for me?” The woman asked.

The girl’s mind raced with questions. How could this be? She glanced around, hoping to find something that would make sense of the situation, but everything remained surreal. She wasn’t afraid, but she was uncomfortable.

“How can this happen?” The girl asked in a whisper.

“Time is a relevant thing. Time is not linear; it flows back and forth, in and out. Sometimes the past, present, and future intersect, and that is when you can meet yourself.”

“How old are you?  Or am I?”

“I am eighty.”

The girl appraised the woman, looking her over. She didn’t look feeble or sick. Eighty is sooo old.

“I can live to be eighty?” She queried.

“Indeed, and beyond. I caution you to take good care of yourself because it is not easy to be eighty, unless you are in good health.”

“Why do you, I mean, I live in Tucson? My whole family lives in Kansas. “

“You will live in many places and, after years of traveling, you come to Tucson. The mountains feel like home, so here you stay.”

“Do I become a great writer?”

“You already are undeniably a writer. Great is a subjective matter. Just continue your love affair with words. Keep your journals, poems, and short stories. They will mean more, and more as you get older.”

“Do I have a horse?”

“Not now, but you have had horses during your life, just as you wished. Be patient.”

“Do I get married?”

“Yes. You marry the love of your life who sticks with you through thick and thin.”

“Do I have a family?”

“Yes, you have three children, grown now, but they are close. And you have a grandson.”

The girl became skeptical. “How do I know you are me?”

“Remember when you were six and ran away from home after a snowstorm? You didn’t have your heavy coat or boots. The snow lay in a thin layer on the ground. You were mad at Mom. She wouldn’t let you go out to play in the new snow because the afternoon was getting darker. You walked out the door when your parents weren’t looking. You didn’t really have any place in mind to go, maybe to your friend, Lois’s house, or to Jimmy’s. But you knew they would call your parents and tell them, so you hunkered down next to the old brick grocery store around the corner at the end of your block and waited.”

“What was I waiting for?”

“A good idea to pop up. It took many years for you to learn to rein in your impulsive inclinations. Your “mad” began to go away though, when you started to feel the cold, especially in your feet, since you only had your slippers on. Then you heard your father’s voice calling.  He easily followed your footsteps in the snow.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I’m you, remember? Dad’s voice made you feel all warm again, and you rushed to him. He picked you up, wrapping you in a blanket he had with him, and carried you back home. Mom had cocoa ready for you.”

The tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. How did this old lady know those details?             

“There are many unexpected twists and turns throughout your years. That’s called life. Remember, you have the strength to overcome any obstacles. Be brave. Find ways to be useful to others. Trust yourself and live each day to the fullest with an open heart.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. She sensed the old woman was leaving. The scene around her faded, and she was back in her bedroom in Kansas.