While looking for a recipe in a cookbook yesterday I found a letter I’d received a month ago advising that I needed to renew my driver’s license. After my initial “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My license has expired.” response, I read the letter to find I still had a couple of weeks left. Phew.

However, because I have an old style laminated license from 2005 I needed to renew in person.

Bugger.

So today I ventured into that strange place known as the city, found the appropriate government office (well hidden behind construction hoardings with NO signage), took my service ticket and sat down. It was lunchtime so I settled in for the long wait.

What to do?

I began filling out the appropriate form, which involved a lot of crossing the No boxes.

“No I haven’t been issued a license in another state / name / dimension”

“No I have not had my license suspended for any of the 15 reasons listed”.

“No I haven’t had lunch”

One of the questions asked for my driver’s license number so I pulled out my current license, looked at the photo and had a bit of a moment.

This wasn’t the usual passport/license-shock-of-the-mugshot moment. It was a moment where I almost didn’t recognise the person in the photo. I know it’s me because it has my name on it but there are physical differences. I’m about 20kg heavier. I’m wearing a loose fit, pastel blue polo shirt (with a mint green collar!). I have blond hair. Streaked.

The photo was taken in 2005. I had just moved from the beach to the country and was settling in to hintry* life.

I think I was very happy. Content.

We’d moved into a new house. Nesting. Planning renovations. Gathering new friends. Socialising with the locals. Getting involved with community. We were uber treechangers.

I was totally into coaching and its community. Studying for my Masters. I was meditating daily. I was gardening. I was in a long-term committed relationship. I was in love.

Fark. We were planning on going to Canada to get married.

I loved my life in 2005. Seriously. LOVED.

How things change.

I often wish now that I had the clarity of the person in the photo – she was so clear about what she wanted in life – but I wonder if the mystery and awe of life is lost in having such stringent parameters.

• I must live in this suburb.
• I must have this type of car.
• I must have a partner. Of this gender.
• I must have this kind of job.
• I must I must I must …

I don’t want that life back. I don’t regret any decisions I’ve made, but it really makes me think how arbitrary a lot of the external stuff in life is.

I didn’t receive my new license today – apparently it takes two weeks – so I’m not quite sure what relationship I’ll have with the person in my new photo. I’m hoping we will have much in common – at least initially – but if I find she is my long-lost incarcerated twin then that’s okay. She will be my ever-present reminder that life is always changing, happiness comes from all sorts of places and all types of experiences, and in ten years time, I will see things differently anyway.

A new perspective is a beautiful thing.

*hinterland/country