Avenoir

We take it for granted that life moves forward. You build memories, you build momentum. But you move as a rower moves: facing backward. You can see where you’ve been, but not where you’re going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It’s hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way.

If your life ran backward, everything would have a sense of order, settling over time into a beautiful simplicity. You’d see your memories approaching for years and watch as they slowly became real. You’d know in advance which friendships will last, which days will prove important, and you could prepare in advance for upcoming mistakes. You wouldn’t have to wonder how much time you had left with people, or how their lives would turn out. You’d know from the start which week was the happiest you’ll ever be, so you could cherish every second of it, soaking it in while it lasts.

Your life would expand into epic drama. The colors would get sharper, the world would feel bigger. One by one, you’d patch things up with old friends, enjoying one last conversation before you meet and go your separate ways. Your family would drift slowly together, finding each other again. You’d fall out of old habits until you could picture yourself becoming almost anything. You’d graduate backward through school, and gradually learn to forget, first the little things, then the big things, gradually stripping away everything you didn’t need to know. You’d become nothing other than yourself, reveling in your own weirdness.

And then the world would finally earn your trust, until you’d think nothing of jumping freely into things, into the arms of other people. You’d remember what home feels like, and decide to move there for good. You’d grow smaller as the years pass, as if trying to give away everything you had before leaving. You’d try everything one last time, until it all felt new again. Then you’d start to notice that each summer feels longer than the last, until you reach the long coasting retirement of childhood.

You’d become generous and give everything back. Pretty soon you’d run out of things to give, things to say, things to see. By then you’ll have found someone perfect, and they’ll become your world. And you will have left this world just as you found it. Nothing left to remember, nothing left to regret, with your whole life laid out in front of you, and your whole life left behind.