Ah, 21-year-old-self. What would you think of future-you?

Would you be proud knowing that your tax returns are up to date, and that your rebates have been used to clear your credit card debt?

You’d snigger hearing that just one glass of wine has resulted in middle-of-the-night dry mouth and wooziness. More than once. On the up side, you’ve acquired a taste for beer. Not all beer, only certain craft beers. You little hipster.

You own a house with someone you almost wish you’d never met.

Sometimes you neglect your friends, most frequently for your boyfriends. Both have broken your heart.

Would you be shocked knowing how fearful you’ve become?

You still haven’t travelled to Europe, progressed past high school French, had children or gotten married, but you have finally settled on your tattoo. It’s on your wrist and it was your 30th birthday present to yourself.

You’ve taken some pretty good photographs. And you make a mean chicken pot pie. You can weave words. You can’t draw.

You’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you, hearing that you knit. On purpose. But you’ve finished a couple of projects, and that’s an achievement. Yes, knitting got you there.

There is a man who tells you he loves you every day. He’s not perfect but that’s ok. Neither are you.

And you’re learning that too is just fine.