Letter to Myself For When I Forget
You won’t remember this, or if you do, it might be a shadow of a memory. I’m not sure. Still, I wanted to remind you of some things.
I’m you. The past you. The past you for whom time is still linear, and we haven’t lost our place in the world. We wrote this, I wrote this, to remind you of what you love, what matters to you, just in case you forget.
Catherine is your wife, and you love her very much. Be patient with her…this will be hard on her. Just hold her and, if she needs to, let her cry. But also, try to be funny. She think’s you’re a goof, but she married you anyway. (Also, she’s not wrong.)
Hannah, Rhiannon, and Logan are your kids. Look at them. There is enough of you in them that they should seem familiar. If not, just listen to them, and be present. They love you, and you love them. Listen to their stories, try not to butt in with your own.
Just relax. You’re going to feel lost, but just remember that you are in the world, and that the things around you are good. Watch nature, look outside. If you can, go outside. You grew up walking in the woods behind your house. You love the light through the green leaves, the feel and scent of a breeze on your face. You yearned for that breeze when you were stuck in an office. You counted the days until Spring arrived and you could sit and have coffee on the back porch. Do these things now. Go sit. Watch the world. You’ve earned it, and there is no place else you’d rather be.
Read, or ask someone to read to you. You love stories. You love the words unfolding to make the most wonderful pictures in your mind. Words are the best magic of all, take time to savor them. Take all the time with them you want now.
Listen to music. You love music, all kinds, but especially acoustic music from all eras. Early music. Choral. Guitar and lute. Strings. Let it wash old you, drag energy from it, let it fill you.
Remember to be kind, even when you are afraid. If you are having trouble remembering writing this, you are probably scared most of the time. It’s ok. No one is out to hurt you. Be kind, and they will reveal their intentions.
I don’t know where you are living…it might be at home, it might be in A Home. Just remember, if you can, that you are part of the world around you, and while those boundaries are dissolving are you grow older, that makes you MORE of a part of it, not less.
Breathe. Be in the moment. The other slip away. Be in this one.
Keep this letter. I hope it reminds you of who we are. I know this was your greatest fear, that your mind would fail you before your body. Who else would write a letter to themselves unless the fear of being lost and alone kept them up at night. We knew this could happen, and so…you wrote these words.
It’s ok. Everything will be all right. Listen to the wind. Be in the sun. Breathe.