Hypothetical questions like this make me think — not about the question I’m supposed to blog about, but the mechanics of it.
Truly, assuming there was something I wished I could tell my twenty-year old self, how would that work?
At first, I thought of leaving a message somewhere for me to find when I reached this age, but then I realized that’s the reverse of the question. Besides, there’s nothing my twenty-year old self could say to me today that would make any difference. If there was something that was important enough for that younger version of me to want forwarded into the future, it’s already been done. First, there is a little thing called a memory. Second, even if I don’t recall the important thing itself, it would be written in my very life — everything that ever happened to me stemmed from the thoughts of that year (and every year) so any message would be redundant.
As for the logistics of getting a message back to that younger self — reverse email? But email hadn’t been invented back then. That twenty-year old self would have to wait several more decades to receive the message, and by then, she’d be almost as old as I am now. If not that, then what? Time travel? Okay, so assume I went back in time, how would I ever convince that person I was her? I’m sure she’d think I was a relation, perhaps a great-aunt or some such because I did at one time bear a distinct resemblance to my mother.
I remember when I was young not ever actually thinking that old people were forever old, but I somehow presumed it. I knew people grew older, but it just seemed to me, in that accepting way of youth, that they were old, and had always been, just as I was young, and would always be. It makes sense, I suppose — when you’re young, you can see the changes in yourself as you graduate to a new grade every year, but the older folks always looked the same. I don’t know when it struck me that old folks had once been young, that they’d lived a whole life before getting old, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen until later in my twenties or even in my thirties. (I knew people aged, of course, but old age seemed so alien to my young self that I never made the connection.)
So there my young self would be, seeing this old woman, and no way would my twenty-year old self ever believe that I was this old. Oddly, I doubt that my current self would even recognize that young self. Odder still, now that I’m old, I feel as if I’ve always been old, as if I’d never been young. I mean, I know I was, but . . . who can remember that far back? Or care? It is easier just to accept what I am today and go with that feeling rather than give credence to a past.
Which means, I suppose, that even if I could go back and tell my twenty-year old self something, there’s nothing I would wish to tell her.
As for the photo accompanying this article, I realize it’s not my twenty-year old self, but nowadays, one young age is as remote as the other.
***
Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One
Bertram's Blog 
June 17, 2026 at 1:01 pm
“…one young age is as remote as the other.” 🙂
This makes me think of another quote:
“The process of living seems to consist in coming to realize truths so ancient and simple that, if stated, they sound like barren platitudes. They cannot sound otherwise to those who have not had the relevant experience: that is why there is no real teaching of such truths possible and every generation starts from scratch.” -C.S. Lewis
I do try hard to recall what I was like, what I was thinking, when I was about 20 years old, because I have so many 20-somethings (and teens, and 30-somethings) in my life whom I am constantly tempted to advise about things. But I remember how smart I thought I was, and how I never would have dreamed of asking my grandmother’s advice about anything, and I hold my tongue…
June 17, 2026 at 3:05 pm
Twenty-year olds (and 30s, 40s, etc) always think they know everything because they know everything they know and can’t imagine anything outside of their experience. Of course, that applies to us all. I suppose maturity is knowing that there are things we don’t know and won’t know until we get there.
June 17, 2026 at 2:52 pm
If i could time travel, I would. I would take ID because my name is so different that I would have to believe me. I would tell her not to marry the POS that cheated on me many times and finally divorced me. I would have carried the divorce papers and helped her to understand I wasn’t ruining her happiness I was protecting her. However, I would tell her to do as she saw fit because I remember how stubborn she was. That should end the discussion. I could go back to being me with the knowledge I had tried to save myself from heartache.
June 17, 2026 at 3:06 pm
That makes sense — knowing that at least you tried. Too bad you can’t do it for real
June 18, 2026 at 12:49 pm
You are absolutely right! However, life goes on and I like to believe that God will handle the stuff. I know I am not perfect so I figure whatever is right before Him is right before me.
June 18, 2026 at 2:50 pm
Good philosophy.