I was thinking of writing a letter to the fifteen year old me but I realised that I would not have read it. I thought I was so cool, so knowing but in reality I was too gauche and dull to be open to the wonder of life.
I could write a letter to future me when I have lost my mental capacity to make decisions. However what would be the point of telling future senile me that the life I can’t remember was great.
So I am going to write something to you. And here it is. Brace yourself.
Today I opened the curtains and saw the dawn. Even insomnia is a gift if you grab it and embrace it. Mother Nature was flaunting her beauty for the crowing cocks while most of the world was oblivious. I could have spent my hour grumpily bemoaning to my pillow that sleep is a necessity but instead I did something. I seized the day and made my lemonade and a whole host of gee life is great and amazing clichés.
Fifteen year old me was too stupid and maybe ninety year old me will be senile. However, right now I’m fifty years old and living in the moment. Why don’t you come and join me.