Crossing time lines.

She had always imagined that when she was an old lady she would have thick white hair tied back in a messy bun with small bangs covering her wrinkled forehead. She’d drive an ancient two-seater pickup truck and wear denim just as old. In this fantasy, she is smiling as she leans against her truck looking out over her land in Northern California. She likes this future self, there is a feeling of contentment and strength, a life lived with stories, a happiness with what is.

Back in the present as the evening sun was beginning to set, she drove off for a few solo minutes to take some photos. Earlier that week she had passed something she wanted to shoot and this was the first time in days she was able to get away. The kids were home for break and her mom was staying, not even the bathroom gave her alone time.

Parking her car in the field across from what she wanted to shoot she breathed in the end of the day. The familiar daily route looked different outside the car. Usually watching this road speed past her from inside the car, a movie soundtrack playing and conversation being shouted over the top of it, this quieter world felt huge. The sky spread forever, smells and sounds crowded in, life popped out. It was startling!

She jogged across the now silent road and started taking photos. While shooting she heard a car pulling up to one of the stop signs she was near. Not wanting to catch any attention she glanced at it and carried on. In that brief second she saw a woman look at her and smile. Her window was rolled down. She had white hair tied messily back and was driving a beat-up old two-seater silver pickup truck. That would be a nice photo she thought before moving on. It wasn’t until she was driving home afterward that she remembered this and realized quite possibly that timelines had been crossed and that her older self, remembering it was going to take a second, smiled across at her yet unaware young soul.