I read something today that projected 10 years into the future. Right now I have sheets on the bed that are 11 years old; they’re a tactile delight. I can’t recall if I had any notion of my future 11 years ago. I remember that the sheets were costly but I knew they’d last a long time so I wasn’t dismayed by the expense. They were something we needed, rather than something I wanted. Using the Christian Children’s Fund method of computation those sheets cost about 4¢ a day.
Ten years from now seems like a long time. I know it won’t be. I stopped imagining the distant future sometime in the 80s, when it became apparent that I wouldn’t be doing what I had intended to do for any length of time because the boredom was excruciating. I like to plan for today, today. I have an aversion to the pressure inherent in strategic planning. When I think of the distant future I imagine something different, Somewhere Else.
I’m a happy malcontent. Like Goldilocks I want to be somewhere that is “just right”. Here is not remotely close to just right. Not remotely close- a far distance, stranded in the middle of the desert without water, left in beautiful desolate Siberia, in a swimsuit, with nary a towel for warmth. The only reason I’m here is because my husband is here, he’s here because the descendants are here and I suggested we relocate to be close to them because it was the right thing to do. We made a life here while I wasn’t looking.
Ten years from now is unimaginable. I hope we’re happy, healthy, and Somewhere Else.