Looking back

This post is inspired by one I read last night. I should have done it on my birthday! but a month later is good too.

60 years ago...

I am a darling newborn baby, crying all the time (I am told), doted on by everyone, and the recent recipient of many many many tiny pink dresses. I live in my parents' ranch-style house in Palo Alto with my 38-year-old parents, sister #1 (age 16), sister #2 (age almost 11), and our black and white, mixed-breed dog Polly.

 

50 years ago...

I am 10, still living in my parents' house in Palo Alto (which has been extensively remodeled since my birth), but my older sisters have moved out and my partner in crime is sister #3, who will be 8 in October. We have a golden retriever named Penny. My family has gone through a lot of turmoil the past few years, and it isn't over yet, but we're surviving. I've just finished 4th grade and am eagerly awaiting 5th grade, because I really like school. I'm always in love with someone (but not sure who it was just then). I am a fanatic reader. My best friend is E, also a fanatic reader. I want to be a writer when I grow up, though I'm already aware it isn't likely to happen.

 

40 years ago...

I am 20, living in my parents' house between my sophomore and junior years at UC Berkeley. I will be moving into a student co-op, Stebbins Hall, in the fall. On my 20th birthday I bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies and hang out on the front lawn with the neighbor's cat, playing sad songs on the guitar. E and I are still friends, but have grown less close; other friends are Z, from high school, and K, my roommate the previous year. I'm not dating anyone, although unbeknownst to me I am about to embark on a passionate love affair with a friend, M. I still want to be a writer, but am also considering law school. My father has been diagnosed with diabetes but we don't know about his heart trouble yet.

 

30 years ago...

I am 30, living alone in a large, dim apartment in Ann Arbor where I am a PhD student in linguistics. I don't have any pets, but in five months I will acquire my first cat. According to my diary, I am seeing someone (who I barely remember now). Over the previous two years many people in my family have died (father, aunt, grandfather), causing me to fall into a deep depression. So I am now taking the antidepressant Nardil, which makes me high as a kite: no worries, no inhibitions, and a permanent grin on my face. (Also: no short-term memory, insane insomnia, and an inability to read, making it hard to be a grad student; in about 6 months I will go off the drug.) I have lots of friends and go out dancing or to movies or parties most weekends. I still want to be a writer, vaguely, but am trying to think positively about a career as a linguistics professor. 

 

20 years ago...

I am 40, living in Boulder, where I moved after earning my PhD and realizing I didn't want to be a professor after all. With the help of family, I have recently purchased a small townhouse, where I live with my old cat, Edward. I'm working as a technical writer/editor for the federal government and enjoying my job. I am in a book group and go for regular walks with another member. A few months ago I met an interesting man on a Boulder Singles Hike, but he seems to have vanished. I still have vague thoughts of being a writer, but I almost never write fiction anymore. I walk, hike, ride my bike, and swim.

 

10 years ago...

I am 50, living in a rental house in Ridgecrest, CA, with my husband (Rocket Boy -- the interesting man from the hike) and our two-and-a-half-year-old twins, A and B. We also have two cats, Whiskers and Pie. I've given up my writer/editor job and am just a mom and a housewife, while Rocket Boy works at the China Lake Naval Air Weapons Station. I have a blog, my first, and I've started writing fiction again, after years away from it. It's been an eventful summer, with one family trip ending in a minor disaster and another soon to be cancelled when Rocket Boy is hospitalized with a fungal lung infection. Over the last few years many family members have died, including my mother, sister #1, and other important people. Sisters #2 and #3 are devoted aunts to their twin nephews. I live close enough to sister #1's adult children to visit them and their families often.

 

Today...

I am 60, living with my 12-year-old twins and our cat Chester in our 1000-square foot house in Boulder, while Rocket Boy lives and works most of the time in St. Louis (though he arrived this afternoon for a two-week visit). We're thinking about getting a dog. After working at the University of Colorado for five years, I'm currently unemployed and not really looking for anything while the pandemic rages on. I enjoy writing this blog and also (sometimes) fiction, but just for my own pleasure. I am still a reading fanatic and my book group is still going. I stay in touch with friends from high school, college, and grad school, but don't have any very close friends in town. A question that is often on my mind: what's next?

 

I think I should do this again in five years. It's weird how certain things vanish if you only look at your life in 10-year chunks. High school, my job as a typesetter, various relationships... I tried to sneak in as much as I could, but missed many things. When I'm 65, if I look back on 5, 15, 25, 35, 45, and 55, that will fill in some gaps, but not all.

But overall it's just really really weird to look at your life this way. It's particularly weird to think about how I saw my life at the time, and how things actually turned out. Some things I was wildly wrong about, and others were more accurate. You can't predict the future, but you can understand yourself (or not).