There’s a version of you, ten years from now, who’s looking back at today with a kind of wistful tenderness. They’re sitting somewhere in the future—maybe at a desk, maybe on a porch, maybe in a completely different life—thinking about the person you are right now. And if they could send you a postcard, if they could shout across time, they’d probably say something simple and a little desperate: please slow down and enjoy this moment a little more.
We spend so much time sprinting toward the next milestone, the next raise, the next level, the next version of ourselves that we forget the quiet magic of right now. We assume happiness is always waiting just beyond the next accomplishment, the next transformation, the next reinvention. But the future you already knows—this version of you, the one you are today, is the one they’ll miss the most.
Think about all the things you have today that you once prayed for. The friends, the home, the job, the small rituals, the freedom, the quiet mornings. Remember how hard you worked to get here. Remember the nights you wondered if it would ever feel like this. Now you’re living it. And yet, like we always do, you’re probably looking past it, already scanning the horizon for what’s next.
Your future self wants you to stop doing that. They want you to take a breath and notice how the light falls through your window, how your coffee tastes this morning, how the people you love sound when they laugh. They want you to celebrate the small wins, to take the walk without your phone, to write the journal entry, to make the call you’ve been putting off. They want you to remember that life isn’t a checklist. It’s a series of moments—this one included—that you’ll never get back.
And maybe the most radical thing you can do today is listen to them. Maybe you pause for a second and actually feel where you are. Not just notice it, but feel it. The weight of the chair you’re sitting on. The smell of the air. The quiet pulse of being alive. Because when you do that, even briefly, you’re not just living—you’re creating a memory your future self will treasure.
Someday, that version of you will look back and smile at the way you stopped, even for a heartbeat, to appreciate your life as it was. And you’ll be glad you didn’t let this version of you slip by unnoticed.
Kenrick Vaz 