When I look into the future, I imagine life with faster computers and smarter phones. I see myself in an office, generally happy, and suppose I may or may not be married. If I happen to have kids, I wonder what they may look like; more like her or more like me? Or, perhaps, I grew them in a future petri dish kit I bought from future Walgreens for $15. Because, at this point in the future, we still don’t have flying cars but we finally do away with non-whole-number price tags.
Then I’m brought back to the present, laying down on the floor in my childhood home in Hawaii. Staring at photos from the 80s and realizing that everything I imagine upcoming is, at this moment, irrelevant. And I’m happy to be where I am now with family, the amazing friends I have (you, most likely) and no sea monkey brats that need caring for.