I wish I were a time traveler.
I’d go back and talk to her.
I’d find her on the beach reading a book.
She’s sitting in her favorite spot, seven blocks from her apartment, looking out into the Pacific.
Her hair is up to her chin. Her nose ring sparkles in the sun.
She’s pondering what’s ahead.
I’d tell her to be patient. I’d plead with her to get curious. I’d ask her to question what she’s been told her entire life would make her happy.
I’d ask her to step off the well worn paved road and discover what’s on the hidden path.
I wouldn’t tell her which one to choose. I’d simply ask her to look closely and deeply at both. I’d remind her how strong and independent she is. I’d tell her that her creativity doesn’t stop on the page, it extends into her life.
I’d hug her so tight. She’s so beautiful and free sitting there by herself. She doesn’t need my hug, but I give her one anyway.
As the embrace ends and before I let her go, I’d whisper in her ear one last thing: Whatever you choose, choose it with all your being. Don’t try to walk in between the road and the path. You’ll only get confused and lost, and find you’re left to figure out how to live with deep and crushing regret.