My 5 Year Plan

I felt a squeeze around my stomach that distracts me from my laptop as I sat at the counter at my favorite coffee shop. I take out an ear bud, automatically pausing my “Phoebe Bridgers Christmas Playlist” and look down from my high top to see a small child hugging me. Her big brown eyes are framed by a blue pair of glasses that sit at the tip of a button nose and are placed above an exceptionally large grin. 

I recognize that it's the same child who I waved to about 3 minutes prior as I walked to the counter to pick up my Iced White Raspberry Mocha with oat Milk. (The same order that Amanda suggested during COVID when I didn't like the taste of coffee but went to Dunn Bros too much to justify ordering another Diet Pepsi.) 

I had never met this child before but here she was hugging me, looking up with an affectionate smile, eager to make a new friend. 

“My name is Attie” She told me as she stepped away. “I am five and I am in Kindergarten.” 

Looking down I smiled softly, and was thankful for an interruption of my work.

 "Kindergarten is a really big year.” I replied

“How old are you?” 

“Guess!” 

…. “20!” 

I appreciated her inability to guess my age and assume she doesn't have many friends who don't watch bluey, or want to grow up to be some form of a Disney princess. 

The night before, I spent time with friends talking about everyone's “5 year plans”. Theirs seems to revolve around being homeowners, and having kids, and continuing on their careers that they were both good at, and found purposeful. I haven't really found that thing yet for me- or I guess I have found multiple things like that for me but they dont pay enough for the way I live right now, or they don’t include health insurance as a benefit. 

 And when I thought of my five year plan, I guess I realized I don't really have one.

Lately, I’ve thought a lot about moving back in with my parents and taking some time off of work. I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to figure out what it is that I need to do. Getting on a new medication, or maybe spending more time volunteering at the shelter, or the humane society. Fostering another cat, booking a trip abroad, running, praying more, cleaning, listening to new music, being an “active participant", trying my best to get my words to feel more real when I write to you, and to feel more like I am living when I’m not. 

“I’m twenty…. 6” I say as I do the mental math of adding 1 to 25, because it seems a lot harder to subtract 1999 from 2025.

Attie went on to tell me that her grandma was 26 too and I am pretty convinced she did her math wrong but didn’t feel the need to correct a five year old at a coffee shop. 

She likes my earrings, her teacher and being a big sister. 

I like her mickey mouse shirt, my cat, and making art. 

“Like an Artists!?” she asked. With wide eyes and arched eyebrows

“I guess you could say that.”

Soon we are interrupted as her mom comes back talking with a family friend saying “looks like Attie made a friend again.” and my newest friend quickly went back to her mom, who, I am sure, is trying to teach her more about stranger danger. 

I could feel tears start to burn my eyes and the lump in my throat start to swell as I tried to remember the last time I experienced a hug as pure as Atties, and came to terms with how I have felt so desperately disconnected from the world around me this year. 

 This Christmas was my first alone. Half the lights on my tree went out a few weeks ago and I wasn't able to host a cookie bake this year because my kitchen can only fit one person, and I had to throw out some ornaments that I used to really cherish and I really didn’t anticipate that the holiday season would be this hard. Everyone is always busy during the holiday, especially now that everyone in my closest circle is either married or in a long term relationship, and I have found ways to waste time,  projects to do, lists to check off, crafts to create, but Christmas this year was just another Thursday.

So when I met Attie, It was nice to meet a friend who knew nothing about me- or the year I had

 Who didn’t give me a look of sympathy when they asked about how I was feeling about the holiday season. Who didn't ask about “married life” or what it's like being a wife, or if I was “putting myself out there” by dating anyone. Or give some sort of inauthentic form of empathy: "You're so young”, “Thank goodness you don't have kids.”, “I know someone else who is also divorce”, Ect. 

 It was nice to meet a friend who was excited about my art and who giggled at pictures of Agnes and who looked at me with excitement- despite my obvious state of exhaustion and holiday dread. A friend who didn’t see me as an attachment to others, or my age, or the things that have happened. 

And I don't think every holiday will feel like this- I really hope that isn't possible.

But I was really glad I got to meet a new friend in 2025,  even if it was just for 5 minutes and she's in kindergarten. 

And I hope that there are more moments like this patiently waiting for us in 2026. 

 And that I meet new versions of myself that aren't attached to the past. Versions that are more honest, and don't mind crying in front of people, and ask for more hugs when I need it- although it likely wouldn't be strangers in coffee shops. Versions that honor experiences despite it all, and versions that are passionate and big and authentic and unwavering and brave. 

 And I know now that there are so many beautiful places to see and capture photos of, and there's so many people in the world who don't know me yet but I would love to learn from or write about and maybe they would want to meet Agnes someday. And  have friends who get drinks with me and invite me to things and feel my hurt, and pain, and joy and excitement too. And there's so many words I have yet to string together and experiences I want to share with you.

And despite the year- and the ways that It has changed me- I hope that I keep meeting you at coffee shops through the eyes and kindness of strangers. And that I find whatever it is that I need and that I can articulate it in a way that makes sense to you. 

But for now, please know I am eagerly longing to meet you and all the versions of us here again in 2026, and think that moments like this are all that I need in my 5 year plan.