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Writer's pictureChristi

Zenitude #34: Dear 90-Year-Old, Tattooed, Toe-Ring Self


Anything can happen between today and tomorrow, from one moment to the next. But in case I live to be 90, here’s my personal letter from 47-year-old me to 90-year-old me as a keepsake for the year 2058. Maybe you can relate, contemplate and write a letter to yourself, too.

Dear 90-year-old Self,

In 2015, you had a blog – Where Did I Put My Zen. What the heck is a blog you ask? Well, it was a form of written digital expression where complete strangers and friends peered into your world of personal observations and memories. They laughed and cried with you, cheered you on or secretly cyber-stalked you (back in the days of computers and internet). The blog is long gone, but you are reading the words on this piece of 43-year-old yellow, frayed paper that has been stuck in your drawer or someone’s drawer. You are reading it on August 11, 2058 – your 90th birthday!

What precipitated this letter? On May 22, 2015, I met a remarkable 90-year-old woman (91 as of June) and in two short months, we have become friends. When we originally met, we chatted for hours and as she spoke, I sat in awe of her poignant life experiences and her smile that lit up the room. Little did she know how much her witty, kind and gentle spirit wrapped me up, made my heart smile and wonder what the h*ll was next in my life. I wondered if my life stories at 90 would be as fun and captivating and if my character would be as delightful and thought provoking. Would someone 47 want to chat with 90-year-old me for hours?

So 90-year-old Self – I hope:

… you are as sassy as ever and that you are celebrating 52 years of marriage to the love of your life. If not, it was the most incredible time of life!

… your tattoo still rocks. If not, it had such a great story behind it!

… you still use the “f” word when you’re mad – because it’s the only one that works in times of madness.

… you still squish the toothpaste from wherever the hell you want – top, middle, bottom. You’ll eventually press your toothbrush from the bottom up to squeeze the last of it out anyway.

... you still have cowboy boots and your assortment of FMPs. Maybe you wear them, maybe you don't, but you still have them.

… you still don’t give a hoot if you pack the same number of bags for a weekend trip or a 2-week vacation.

… you still love cheese. Lots and lots and lots of cheese. And Cheerios. (But not together.)

… your little sister still calls you “sissy.” (Always melts my heart.)

… your brother’s laugh still makes you roll in the floor laughing. (Don’t break a hip.)

… you still put your lipstick and lip gloss on every single day throughout the day. Heck, I hope you put on your makeup every day (just like your grandmother did) and still love big hair.

… you still clean your face every night. Or not.

… you and your girlfriends still wear toe rings.

… you still swivel your hips like a belly-dancer and laugh out loud like Julia Roberts. (Maybe you still have your teeth.)

… your mom is still alive at 106 – you’re basically the same age now. 90. 106. One of the two of us needs to move on and die. Stubborn can only live so long.

… you still cry, no sob, at the sight of a wounded creature on this earth. And The Husband still knows how to handle you talking through those can’t catch your breath kind of sobs and snot.

… you still love to watch your favorite movie, Moonstruck, recite every line and drink cherry lemon drop martinis with your childhood friend, Audrey. You’ll be celebrating 81 years of friendship.

… you have quit making lists and lists of lists.

… you have your hearing and still love the sound of the ocean and that its tranquility takes you back to when you were 47.

… you have lived at the ocean and it remains your place of solitude and life-changing discovery and reflection.

… you still brag about your step-children and their life accomplishments – because they are your heart. You could not physically carry children under your heart, but these three became your heart.

… you love your wrinkly body and every jiggle, wiggle and dimple because for far too long you didn’t. Body-love is true beauty.

… you still eat Snickerdoodles and cake! with oooo-gobs of icing anytime you want and drink lots fine or cheap wine with friends. And beer. Ice cold beer – right out of the bottle.

… you still sing, tango, create and scuba because later in life you finally took singing lessons, tango lessons, art lessons and scuba diving lessons.

I hope you remember when you were 47 and you wrote this. To be continued…

Zenitude for today:

Start doing anything you want. Today. Or soon.

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