In 10 years, I see myself reflected in the bathroom mirror, and wonder what happened to my hairline and waistline. In 10 years, I see myself and the other commuters in the subway windows, jammed together like the condemned on their way to an execution camp. In 10 years I see myself reflected in the smartphone screen as I try to lose myself in information and avoid speaking to friends I've never liked. In 10 years I see myself in the glass elevator windows, wondering when I traded my dreams for a steady wage and a condo in the city. But also, in 10 years I see myself in the still lake waters as I sit on the porch. I see myself in my child's eyes, and know it was all worth it.