Mimo Khair Creative

Today, I chose this photo of myself taken in my early 20s—already out of Lebanon, newly arrived in New York, with life still unwritten and unknown.

I’ve often wondered: if I could sit across from this younger version of me, what would I tell her? Would I try to prepare her for the heartbreaks, the joys, the losses, the many chapters ahead? Would she even listen? Would it change anything?

The world around us shifts so quickly. In the years I’ve lived so far, it feels like time has folded in on itself. So much has happened—so many lives lived within one lifetime—that the calendar years no longer reflect the depth of experience.

And through it all, death has never been far. Not feared, but familiar. It visited my doorstep, took from me, stood beside me. We know each other, death and I. I don’t see it as dark—though the world often does. For me, it’s simply part of the rhythm. Birth, death. Creation, dissolution. A truth too ancient to deny.

So what would I whisper to her, this younger me?

To take life more lightly? She probably wouldn’t.

To waste less time? She wouldn’t know how.

To fear less? That would take years to learn.

I would lean in close and say one simple thing:

“All is well. And all will be well.”