The Yellow Door Life

Dear Emily,

First of all, if you have made it to a hundred then you have proven that you are bigger than the diseases you have been diagnosed with, so kudos to you there.

In all seriousness though, at one-hundred-years old, I sincerely hope that you have lived a life dedicated to love. Loving God. Loving people. Loving students. Loving animals. I also sincerely hope you told that man how you feel about him. 

At one-hundred-years old, does anything besides love really matter? 

I mean, I doubt you are sitting there thinking about that one bad day you had at thirty-four-years old. The day where you sincerely thought about giving up. The day where you let the fear creep back in. The day where you thought God might actually hate you because nothing is changing. 

A lot of time has passed since then and I know you got past this. How would you have made it that long otherwise? 

I can’t imagine what the world will look like in 2090. 

Yikes. 

What a thought. 

But if you’re still around, then there must be something worth fighting for. You’re stubborn like that. 

There are a lot of things that I hope you got to do and see, and if you stayed brave, then I’m sure it all worked out the way it was always meant to happen. 

I hope that I get the chance to be you (or close, one-hundred-years-old has never really been a goal of mine, but I’ll take what the good Lord gives me). I hope that I stop worrying about what the future holds and just appreciate every moment, as cliche as that is. I hope that I continue to find people, places, and purposes that ignite the kind of fire that gets any human being to 100. I mean, Betty White didn’t even quite get there (God rest her soul) and that woman was made of fire. Whatever it takes to live to one hundred, or somewhere near there, I just hope that I keep adding those things to my life and taking away anything that doesn’t.

Here’s to the next sixty-five and a half years. 

As long winded as always,

Your younger self ❤