Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.

Dear Future Bob

If you’re reading this, then congratulations old boy — you somehow managed to make it to a century. That’s either impressive stubbornness, a cosmic clerical error, or Mrs Bob has simply kept you alive through sheer force of will. My money is on the last one.

Right then… how did we do?

Did we keep our promise to try and be a decent man? Not perfect — that was never the goal — but decent. The sort of bloke who tries to help where he can, even if he occasionally makes a complete hash of things along the way. Because if there’s one thing life has taught us, it’s that mistakes are part of the deal. The important bit is the intention behind the effort. 

By now you’ll have seen a lot of people come and go. That’s the nature of the thing. Life is fragile — far more fragile than most of us realise when we’re younger. We spend years thinking we’ve got endless tomorrows in the bank, until eventually we realise the account was never that full to begin with. 

So tell me — did you remember that?

Did you remember to enjoy the quiet moments?

The cup of coffee in the morning.
A good book from the top of the ever-growing pile.
The sound of laughter in the house.
The strange little magic that lives in ordinary days.

Those are the bits that matter. Not the noise.

I hope you kept writing the scribbles. You never really wanted to be a poet anyway — you just wanted to be okay, somewhere along the line those scribbles became a way of stitching the mind back together, one line at a time. 

Did the words help other people too?

I hope so.

Because if the scribbles managed to make someone feel a little less alone in the dark corners of their mind, then that’s a job well done.

Also, I hope you kept your curiosity. Kept reading strange books. Kept exploring different beliefs and ideas. Kept looking for the bits of truth hidden in places people are too busy arguing about to notice. The universe is a very big place, and we only ever get to peek at a tiny fraction of it.

Did you keep watching the moon through a camera lens?

Did you still tinker in the shed like Grandad used to?

Speaking of him… I hope you never forgot the lessons he gave you. Work hard. Be honest. Help people if you can. And above all, try to be the sort of man who leaves things slightly better than he found them. 

If you managed that — even a little — then I reckon we did alright.

And one last thing…

If Mrs Bob is still beside you at a hundred years old, then you won the lottery of life, my friend. That smile of hers was always a kind of magic, and you were lucky enough to fall under the spell. Never forget that.

Right then.

I’ll let you get back to whatever a 100-year-old poet does with his day. Probably complaining about traffic, knowing you.

Take care of yourself old man.

Stay safe.

Bc