What if?

About a week ago while wasting time online I stumbled across the following question: "You randomly wake up naked in Central Park on September 4th, 2001. With only the knowledge you currently have about 9/11, what do you do to save as many lives as possible?" I know it's an impossible scenario, so I was surprised how long I thought about my answer.

Now most people responded with tactics about how they would prevent 9/11 or at least limit the casualties. But for some reason I could only think about what my life would be like afterward. Even if I managed to make a difference and saved the lives of some strangers without being committed to a hospital for insanity or put on some CIA watch list, my life as I knew it would effectively be over.

I would be stuck 14 years back in time, in a 26-year-old body while my past self was still in middle school. My family and friends wouldn't recognize me. My husband and I would have never met. I would have no way to prove my identity so I'd be stuck either stealing someone else's ID or fabricating a new one.

My one good fortune is that my husband is quite a bit older than I am, so there would be no awkward age gap to overcome when or if we met again. I could probably capitalize on my future knowledge to invest in the right companies and maybe save more lives from future natural disasters. But I would curse myself for not paying more attention to the news and memorizing dates of major milestones.

Maybe with my new wealth and knowledge I could convince my husband to marry me again. But I know it wouldn't be the same. Who he is now is the sum of his life experiences and he would be missing a decade of personal growth. I would agonize over possibly robbing my past-self from a genuine relationship with him. That is assuming past-me even followed the same footsteps in the questionably different post-9/11 world. In all likelihood the butterfly effect of my meddling would make "me" a very different person too.

In my lonely future-past, I would wait eagerly for the day when I could meet my parents again after my past-me had become an adult - ten years should probably do - and hope that my striking likeness might convince them that I really am from the future and I really am their daughter. I would cry when my mom hugs me for the first time in over a decade because nothing would mean more to me than reaffirming that connection.

Or at least that's what I wanted to say. But in the end I didn't post my answer. Compared to everyone else's heroic plans, my comment seemed too selfish. But imagining my life without everything and everyone that is near and dear to me reminded me just how much I have to lose. I realize that I will never be the storybook hero, but I will do everything I can to hold on to what's most important to me.

What if it happened to you?