letter from my 90yr old self...

{Instead of writing a letter to your 23yr old self, what might it be like to receive a letter from your 90yr old self? Seems to me its the difference between knowing-what-I-know-now and dreaming-what-I-dream-now. I invite you to read and then possibly dream up a similar letter from your ancient self}

 

Dear John,

That ache in your elbow? Yes, its arthritis. There’ll be days when it’ll hurt like hell, but it won’t kill you, trust me. Advil is your friend. Keep your fingers crossed for that totally white hair and beard combination. It takes a few more years but the evolution comes to pass and getting to play Santa every Christmas afterwards is pure unadulterated joy. Don’t fear the extra pounds around the middle, a part of the gig is fitting in the suit. And the poetry? Well, it takes you places you wouldn’t believe if I told you, so I’m not, just keep stubbornly writing what you see when you look. I know you feel like life is slipping through your fingers right now, especially with the kids, but time’s a handful of melted butter. It still feels that way at 90. You’ll live out the details, and all won’t be rosy, but I can tell you the kids are going to be okay, they really are. You’re going be taken aback at the love you’ll feel for your grandchildren. To hold them soon after they’re born will unravel you, I’m warning you. In those moments you will love your children even deeper than you do now. I know you find that hard to believe, but its true. Along those lines, resist the temptation to give your opinion on the names your grandchildren receive. 

Your best friend at 44 is still your best friend at 90. Here’s the deal – you’re not ever going to make gobs of money but your marriage endures and that’s the prize. Sure, the two of you ease into that ‘cranky elegance’ phrase you copied down from the Harrison book. One thing – stay very close to her…just trust me. She keeps you tethered to this world and that will prove vital for the second half of your life. That trip the two of you will take in a few years, the one to New York in October? That’ll feel as financially foolish as anything you’ve ever done, but do it anyway. The leaves will be turning in Central Park and the afternoons you walk together there will be like the rich crimson of your first year of marriage back in Texas. You’ll walk hand in hand, laughing alot, and I have to tell you that’s what you remember at 90. God this life is beautiful. Should she find a bracelet of blue glass beads in a little shop in the village – buy it. It’ll be a gift that will turn around and be a talisman for your marriage, its powers restorative like the fabled unicorn’s horn.

Finally I want to remind you of something: you must be tested in all things as all men, so in years to come the evening train will rattle your bones. I won’t lie, that grief is going to geld you for a season. The darkness will be as you’ve not yet seen causing you to curse both God and man. God can handle it and the man that can’t isn’t worth a damn in the first place. Such are the shadows in the valley we all must walk. You’ll make it through as others have, but you’ll need a little something. We have an affinity for words, you and I, and these will prove both solace and grit. Take and eat them, they are the salutation of angels and the benediction Bruce Wayne heard in that fateful alleyway: don’t be afraid.

Sincerely,

your 90yr old self

p.s. – Brennan was right…all is grace.

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