A few days after my birthday in September 1998, I sat down a wrote a letter to myself. It started: Dear 33. Not overly long, but a couple of double-spaced, handwritten pages about who I was at 23 and who I hoped I'd be at 33. Then I sealed it up and put it in my underwear drawer marked "Open on September 8, 2008." It came with me to a few different apartments, always ending up back in my underwear drawer. I would often hold it up and wonder what I had written to myself.
A month or so ago I started to worry about what I would find within it. Would all of my hopes and dreams at 23 have translated into reality? Would I find myself disappointed with my life on my birthday? So, on a random Sunday afternoon, I opened it.
Thankfully, I was charmed by my 23-year-old self and reminded that the essential things that make me who I am don't really change, even if the numbers of candles on the cake increase. My current life path is completely different than the one I was on ten years ago, but what I want from life is pretty much the same. And it turns out that I'm doing a pretty good job of getting to where I want to be.
So this morning, with the apartment to myself and my birthday a week away, I sat down with a cup of tea and wrote a letter to myself at 43. Just a glimpse of who I am, what I'm doing, and what I hope to be when I next read it. This time I included something about my finances - that's new! I sealed it up, along with the first letter, and marked the envelope "September 8, 2018."
Bring on the next decade.
Total debt: $4765 and a bit
Spent today: $0 (But I still feel guilty, because I at soooo many chocolate chip cookies. Blech.)
1 comment:
That's such a good idea, i might steal it if i may. I know i've done a few of those over the years, but god knows in all the moves whether i still have them. Can't wait to see you!
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