My dear self-centenarian

A hundred years have passed since this moment. It feels like a blink and an eternity at the same time. As I sit here, much younger than you, I feel a mix of awe and a little bit of fear.

Wow, you are still here. There was a time you never thought you would make it to 25, now you are 100. There is no telling how much time you have left, but I hope the journey to 100 was fun.

As I sit down to write this letter, I find myself smiling, imagining you—a century-old version of me—reading these words with a heart full of wisdom, memories, and perhaps a few tears of nostalgia.

I am 66 now, and the thought of living another 34 years fills me with curiosity and excitement. Have I lived well? Have I kept my promises to myself? Have I embraced life’s beauty with open arms? I hope so.

First, let me ask you, how do you feel? I hope your body, though aged, still carries the resilience we nurtured over the years. Do your feet still carry you on long walks, your hands still hold a paintbrush, and your voice still hum a tune of joy?

I hope you still dance, even if it’s just a slow, gentle sway. I hope you still write, filling the pages with stories and poems that touch souls.

I hope you still create art, letting your heart spill onto the canvas. But most importantly, I hope you still find wonder in the simple things—sunrises, the laughter of children, the rustling of leaves, and the whispers of old books.

As I look back on my life at 66, I have learned that the journey is more important than the destination.
– I hope you have continued to live by this philosophy.
– I hope you have loved deeply, forgiven often, and laughed heartily.
– I hope you have embraced the changes, welcomed the unknown, and celebrated every wrinkle and gray hair as a testament to a life well lived.

You were always a dreamer, and I hope you never stopped dreaming.
– Have you traveled to the places we once longed to see?

– Have you written more books?

– Have you met people who touched your heart and left footprints in your soul?

If there are regrets, I hope they are few and insignificant. I hope you do not dwell on the ‘what-ifs’ but instead smile at the ‘what-was.’

After all, life has never been about perfection, but about moments—both big and small—that shaped us into who we are today.

Have you remained kind and compassionate? I hope so. The world always needed more kindness, and I hope you continued to be a beacon of light for those around you.

I wonder about your family—our family. Have you spent enough time with them? Have you showered them with love, patience, and wisdom? If not, it is never too late. Even at 100, there is time to embrace them, tell them stories, and leave behind a legacy of love.

And what about our granddaughter? She must be a grown woman now. Is she happy? Does she carry a piece of you within her?

I hope she has inherited your love for creativity and your zest for life. I hope she reads your words and sees them as a guide for her own journey.

Life has always been unpredictable, hasn’t it? But that’s what made it beautiful. Even in struggles, we found lessons; in pain, we found strength; and in loss, we found a deeper appreciation for what remains.

If you ever feel lonely, I want you to remember that you have lived a life filled with meaning. Your stories, your laughter, your kindness—they have all left an impact on this world.

As I finish this letter, I want you to close your eyes and smile. Smile for the boy you once were, the man you became, and the legend you now are.

And if you are reading this with tears in your eyes, let them be tears of joy—because you made it. You lived, you loved, you thrived.

With love and admiration,
Your 66-year-old self

Categories: infotainment

Tags: #Centenary Man, #creativity, #Family, #Life, #Love, #poetry, #wellness, featured, writing