A letter to me

Dear 80-year-old me,

              Hey there now. I'm glad you're still hanging in there! You are probably laughing at all the stupid things we've done in our life. And, knowing some of them, I'm laughing too. Remember that one time we almost bought something at a silent auction cause we were pointing out something to daddy? Yeah, I still crack up about that. 

               I think it's totally unfair all the things you know that I don't. You know where we went to college, who we married, what our kids' names were, and you get to hang with our grandkids. And I don't. That's not fair. It's also unfair that you're probably on your fifth, or sixth cat by now, and I haven't even had my first yet. I'm not sure I will. I'm quite sure you're sitting in a wall-papered apartment with bird cages and drapes hung up everywhere. And I'm sure you watch reruns of all sorts of shows that haven't come out yet. I'm positive you don't write a journal, because there are some things that will never change. And I'm sure you still play my Taylor Swift music, because that's a part of us. I hope you are healthy, and that you don't have cancer, or some disease. And I hope you exercise, and that you are so fit no one guesses you are 80. Cause that'd be way cool. And I hope you live close to your grandkids, and I hope they call you Oma. 

                         I think it's really quite fascinating that you've had a life, and you are so much smarter than I am. And that you have lots of kids who come to see you a lot. And I'm really glad you got to spend your life happily, and I hope you weren't too disappointed at your first grey hairs, because old ladies are adorable. 

                           I think that if I were asked to describe you, I'd have no problem, because I know you. You're the lady in the house that smells like bread, who has a cat, and who makes friends with everyone she meets. You're the lady who's 80, and still looks classy, because she embraces the wrinkles and white hair. You're the smart, funny, sensible one. You're the lady who still goes to church every Sunday, and who's there whenever and wherever you're needed. You're called Eleonore now, since that's you're gorgeous, gramma name. You're the bigger, better, older, smarter me. And I can't wait to be you. 

Tons of hugs and kisses,

14-year-old me.

pee ess: have any of you ever considered each year of your life to be a different person? I think our character changes every year just a bit, and that even though I'll never be me when I'm 80, part of me will be her. (does that make any sense?) Anywho, if you'd like to do one, go ahead, but shoot me a link in the comments so I can read too!

Also, this is the one thing I want most at the moment:

(faints from the cuteness of this kitten. Again.)