Message from a past

Today was the day I finally opened the letter I had written to myself ten years ago. Although a bit childish, it carried the wisdom of a an old man and the humour of a comedian. It started like this…

Dear future me, I hope this letter finds you well, and that most of what we dreamed has come true. We’re a team, after all—a team not to be messed with. Now, on to the main questions I’ve been dying to ask. Did you get your first kiss yet, you sucker? How was it? Was it like in the movies where it's raining and in a rose house, time slowing down type of scenes like in the movies? Even if it didn’t, I’m sure someday you’ll meet a girl who’s your whole world. And please, don’t let her go. If you love her, love her fully, and when that time comes remember we want three kids, alright!? Four, if possible. How about your faith in God? I hope you haven’t started worshipping Zeus or anything wild like that. cause one I don't want to see myself or you in hell cause I don't want to lose my favourite blanket in the burning hell, second remember he was our only playmate on grade 1 remember the time when we cried saying we had no friends and the next day we came to class all giggles that was Christ on our side always looking out for us. Put Christ first always. Just remember, Christ was our only friend when no one else was around. He’s always been there for us, even in our darkest days. Keep Him close, always. Lastly, to my future self, I wish you all the best. I hope everyone Mom, Dad, Lidu, Baby, and Ketemashi are doing well. Let them know that I love them, and I love you too, future me. P.S:- Pat Bobby on the head for me.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the cute innocence of my younger self; it was actually rejuvenating in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of my life. And yes, I did get my first kiss. It wasn’t in a rose-covered house like we’d imagined, but it was even better. It happened on a quiet sidewalk after a long walk—just me and her, under a single streetlight. The thing is, I wasn’t even the one to make the move—she took my chin and pressed her lips to mine. The moment we kissed, I felt explosions all over my body. It was the most romantic, out-of-a-movie moment I could have dreamed of. Life had other plans, though, and eventually, we went our separate ways. I miss her sometimes, but I don’t regret a single moment we shared. I guess we’ll still be waiting another ten years to see if future me will bring us the news of those four kids we once wished for. As for how my faith has grown, I’d say I’m stronger now in body, mind, and spirit. I feel closer to Christ than ever; it feels like home. So you don’t have to worry about me. Bobby passed away when we were twelve—a good dog to the end. We gave her a proper burial. She’s a part of our story that we’ll always carry with us. No matter how I think about it, it’s incredible how ten years have flown by—it really shows how fleeting time is. The things we once cherished, loved, and thought we’d never lose have drifted away, swept into the river of time, never to return but always held close in our hearts. Just like those we’ve lost along the way, our turn will come, and we, too, will be carried into that river, eventually to be forgotten.