100 years old / Emily Dickinson / hopes / Uncategorised

P.S. I Love You

Joey Jones20 Comments

Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.

Dearest You

Who knew it would take me all morning to stumble over the words I have in my head for you. Let alone get them down in print?

I’m concerned you may not be as comfortable in that skin as you once were. I’m worried that you won’t have a companion cat or dog because you would spend endless hours every day fretting what would become of them when you spin of this Mortal Coil.

I would like to be there to hold your hand and look deep in your eyes, and feel how your heart is holding up.

You will not be best pleased what ageing has done to your physical appearance.  Not in the vain ” ooh aren’t I pretty” kinda way, but in a ” yes, I can scrub up ok” when I try.

You will have done your best to keep your eye on the ever-changing landscape. If you have a device on your lap, that would be wonderful.

Someone to give you a hand and chat to if you need that. The ability to get out into the fresh air and light, maybe a short stroll. To enjoy fresh food.

As I write this today, my very being is full of hopes for you. Remember Emily Dickinson’s Hope is a Thing With Feathers? Do you still enjoy poring through poetry books? I’d like to think so.

And now it’s time to close.

It’s March 10th 2026. It’s cold out there, but the spring flowers are doing well, and today, there’s  not a cloud in the perfectly blue sky. There is even a little warmth in the sun.

May you find a ray of sunshine to sit peacefully in each day. May your sight be clear to see the natural world. May all your senses be your friends.

🩵💚🩷

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