Yesterday, I found your letter. It was stuffed in an old cardboard box, jumbled amongst old letters and photographs from our school days.
You wrote me when we were a junior in college. On the envelope you sternly penned these words: DO NOT OPEN UNTIL YOUR 30TH BIRTHDAY!!
So bossy, you were.
Our 30TH birthday has come and gone. Still, I read your letter with a sense of appreciation and nostalgia for all your hopes and dreams.
You had some lofty expectations for us, 20! You would, for certain, have your disappointments.
On one thing though, I think you'd be pleased.
As you were wrapping up your letter, you said this: "One more thing, 30. Are you loving the little things in life? Do you notice the sun setting? How the moonlight glistens and skips across the water? Do you see how truly amazing the trees are...how they sail up, up, up...so willowy and beautiful in their quest for the heavens? Do you stand in awe?"
(Dear 20, I do...)
You said, "I hope you're not living in the city, 30. I hope you're living in a peaceful little place where there's room to think and breathe and dance and....just be."
You signed it, "Life is good! Enjoy the little things... Your old self, at 20."
Dear 20. I thought you’d like to know, while I didn't come through on everything…
We are living in the country.
Yourself,
At quite-over-30
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