A letter from Aug 31st, 2021

Dear Future Me, I’m writing you from 2021. It’s the last day of August and the second week of school - the first semester back since COVID, which I hope is now a distant memory. At this time you are hopeful for your future. I choose ‘hopeful’ very specifically because you are not sure where your life will take you after you graduate with your PhD this year (knock on wood). Will you pursue forming your own company, taking the risk that rarely rewards? Will you move back to Minnesota, to grow with your existing family and friends? Will you travel around the world like you had promised yourself, but these days doubt? Will you sell-in and work for Apple, the safe and high paying option? Will you say “**** it all” and pursue freelance work , art, or game design? I sit and write this with nervous anticipation, reflect on my plethora of “first-class options” (as Pops would say!) and remind myself I’m hopeful. Are you dating someone? Have you married, or intend to? Or have you decided to remain single? I hope your heart is full when this finds you. If it’s not, I hope you can find the courage and drive to seek and accept love for yourself and others. As I write this, I myself am not fully over my love for another, and don’t know what exactly I should do about it. It seems to be apart of the cycle of this life, doesn’t it? I want to make a deal with you. I will do these things the same now, and I wish you to find time to do them in the future as well. I wish you to write a poem I wish you to have a treat (perhaps a Dairy Queen swirl cone?) I wish you to call your parents I wish you to call an old friend I wish you to breath in, slowly, deeply, and feel something. I wish you to be well. Make it real, P