Do you remember the movie, “The Kid?” More than likely you don’t remember it because you’ve probably never heard of it. It was a movie starring Bruce Willis, a soon-to-be forty year old image consultant in L.A. Somehow his eight year old self appears and lives with him. Why, you may ask? Watch the movie.
Today, while eating lunch with a good friend, I told him that I wanted to write those popular “letters to my sixteen year old self.” “For what?,” he venomously responded. “What good would it do? Why not write a letter to your future self and then read that one in a couple years and see how it turns out.” I loved his idea, but then my mind started to spin (read: the hamster finished sipping on the stale water and jumped back on the wheel). The result: my memory of watching this movie back in college. And I started to think, what would eight year old me think about twenty eight year old me; what questions would he ask? How would he feel about the life decisions I’ve made?
You’re a teacher. No way! What happened to being the first cardiologist that played in the NBA during the winter months, only to return to a wildly successful private practice during the summer? And you just forgot about the plans to live in Hawaii, huh? What, the weather isn’t beautiful enough for you anymore? I see I still have that winning smile, but what is that on your face? A beard! Get out of here. Why are you not as close with your brother anymore? I do everything for him…everything. I expected that that would never change. I am shocked; maybe I could understand the career change, but your brother? Family is all we ever had and all we will ever have. Congratulations on having a son! He lives where? And you aren’t with his mother? Remember, you promised me that you would never be like my father. Sweet ride! I’m just excited that I will be able to drive one day. And where are your best friends, Ralphy and Jeffrey? What do you mean you just reconnected with Ralphy through Facebook? You should have never lost connection with them in the first place; they are family–the Latin side. I spend all of my time with them. Why do you not visit Aunty and Granny and Papa as much? You know St. Martin is home. Can you please explain to me where you are hiding your video games? Wait, what? You don’t play video games anymore. Where are your posters of your favorite basketball players? Your stacks of Sports Illustrated for Kids? Oh I forgot, I’m a grown up now; I mean Sports Illustrated. Collection of Marvel superhero cards and comic books are where again? Are you sure you’re me when I grow up? I feel like I don’t even know myself.
What would your eight year old self say to you? Please share in the comments section.