Call me crazy, but I have this thing, I love going to the dentist.

And to be fair, I guess it isn’t the actual cleaning and sitting in the dentist chair that I love, but it’s this moment right after it’s done when I’m getting checked out by the receptionist on my way out. The lady always asks — with a huge smile, of course — “Ready to book your next appointment?”

And I’ll say, “Sure.”

And she’ll pull out this random date and random time and ask, “Are you free on February 21st at 8am?”

As much as I’ve grown to expect this question, I still need to hold back my instant inclination which is to give her a deer-in-headlights, I-have-no-freakin-clue face back to her at this moment.

“Um. February 21, next year?” I’ll say, trying to buy myself some time to find an answer I don’t actually have any information to lead me towards an answer for.

“Yep. It’s a Tuesday,” she’ll respond.

Oh, well THAT helps. I’ll think to myself, as part of me wonders if she really doesn’t think it's an absurd idea of hers to think that I’ll know my schedule that far in advance. I’ll want to say, “Mam… I don’t even know what I’m having for dinner tonight, nevermind what I’m doing at 8am on a random Tuesday next year.”

But I manage to refrain. Instead, I pause for a moment and look towards the ceiling as if I’m really thinking (as if I actually have anything to really work with that’ll paint any significance to that date), and I smile and respond with, “Sure!” 

I say that even though it doesn’t feel like I’m exactly telling the truth. Because the reality is, I just don’t know. I have no idea where I’ll be that random Tuesday 6 months from now, but sure, let’s say if all goes well, I’ll be sitting right back in that dentist chair. 

Then comes my favorite part: she gives me this little business card appointment reminder for me to take back home and put on my fridge. 

I’ll stick it on my fridge, thinking that if I subliminally see it often enough, maybe I’ll remember that date.

But before I put that card on my fridge, I always take a minute to write something on the back of it. 

On the left hand side, I’ll write a couple bullet points about where I’m at right now, what my life looks like, or what I’m working on—whatever comes to mind to paint a picture of what my life looks like.

• On track to read 100 books this year, or

• Working on getting my muscle up at the gym, or

• Been cooking more  

And then on the right hand side, I write down what I would imagine or want my life to look like in 6 months. “By the time this random Tuesday rolls around,” I’ll ask myself, “what do I want my life to look like?” 

Normally it’s something pretty exciting. Here are some things I’ve written before:

• Have a truck camper

• Publish 100 blogs

• Travel to X number of new places

• I’m stretching every day

• Have a third date (first dates are pretty common, but for me to want to have a second date, that’s pretty rare, and a third date—now that means something) 

It's almost like it’s a time capsule. It’s a glimpse into the future, and one day it’ll be a glimpse back on the past.

Anyway, then I post it in the fridge and pretty much forget about it. 

And then, 6 months later, that Tuesday will come and I’ll turn the card over and remember what I wrote. It ends up being this really cool experience of realizing I’ve changed, I’ve grown. It forces me to think of where I was.

The cool thing is how I might not have realized it if not for that card. It’s like when a teenager is growing up, and you don’t realize all the little changes that are happening until one day it all cumulates in, “Wow, something about today, you’re so grown up and different now.”

I’ll always smile to myself as I read it and think back to that day 6 months ago. 

I’ll remember, wow, yea, I was so torn up about that certain thing.

I was so down on myself about that.

I felt like there was no hope for me to get better at this. 

Or, hey I thought a third date would be a win, and look how far I’ve come! Look at how much I’ve undershot myself!

There was one time where I wrote only one thing on my whole card. Between everything I was consumed about and everything I wanted my life to look like was the same: “Sell my house.” At that point, it was as if that's all my life was consumed by, and all I wanted to be done with. I wanted to finally be done with this chapter, and it was just dragging on and on, with one roadblock after another. I decided that if only that one thing happened in those 6 months, I’d be happy. 

And then, 6 months later, it came true. Almost exactly to the date. And that card gave me the ability to be okay with the fact that not much else had happened. I’d already determined just that one thing would be good enough.

And then, as I walk into that next appointment, I’m thinking the whole time about where I was, the last time I sat in this chair, and how I have no idea what my life will look like the next time I sit in this chair. There’s so much possibility, it could really be anything. And to sink into that moment, it’s just so, exhilarating. 

To think that Feb 21st, this day that I didn’t think would mean anything to me, ends up being a special day. A day to reflect back, and start imagining what could lie ahead, too. 

Anyway, that’s why I love going to the dentist. It’s this moment to check in. 

I don’t mean with them–  

With me.