A love letter to my future.

Dear Someday,

I’ve been thinking about you lately. Sometimes I can’t help but think about you. What you’re going to be like. The things that will make me so happy I’ll glow a little bit. The things that will break my heart. The every day moments where I’ll get up, make coffee, and probably forget the majesty of the sunrise.

I’ve got my hopes of what you’ll look like.

I hope you’re a quick detour to London. Just for a little bit. Enough to satisfy the years old longing to be there. I hope you’re coffee shops and pubs in Oxford. I hope you’re a stroll down cobblestone streets. I hope you’re rain boots and an umbrella. I hope you’re some of the best memories of my life.

I hope you’re a cool Tennessee evening. I hope you’re a sunset with cicadas buzzing in the background. I hope you’re the distinct smell of a summer rain. I hope you’re the sound of a thunderstorm as I’m drifting off to sleep. I hope you’re the taste of a cold glass of tea.

I hope you’re a house with lots of room for books. The kind of books that smell just like books. Old and a little musty. Books that have yellowed and dog eared pages. Books that have been read and re-read. Books that could echo “one more time, mommy!” if you opened their pages. Lots of books. And nooks and crannies.

I hope you’re mason jars with canned jellies and fresh picked flowers from a field. I hope you’re a big old claw foot bath tub that I can sink into. I hope you’re homemade chocolate chips cookies and a messy kitchen. I hope you’re creaky floors and a squeaky porch swing.

I hope you’re dance recitals. I hope you’re soccer games and basketball tournaments. I hope you’re science fairs and field trips. I hope you’re pumpkin patches and cutting down Christmas trees. I hope you’re first snow falls and road trips to the beach. I hope you’re movie nights with popcorn and forts. I hope you’re conversations about love and grace.

I hope you’re family. I hope you’re the kind of life where Grandma can pick up the kids from school just to take them to get an ice cream cone. I hope you’re stories swapped around the dinner table. I hope you’re generations gathered in one room. I hope you’re heritage passed from one to the next. I hope you’re namesakes.

I hope you’re the quiet early mornings, when daylight is breaking, and I turn over and see my very best in the whole wide world. I hope you’re secret smiles and inside jokes. I hope you’re post-it note “I Love You”‘s. I hope you’re breath-catching moments. I hope you’re a world that’s not taken for granted. I hope you’re long drives with the windows down and the music blaring and we are singing at the top of our lungs. I hope you’re a blanket on the grass looking up at the stars.

I hope you’re laughter. I hope you’re depth. I hope you’re love. I hope you’re redemptive. I hope you’re a hand to hold in hard moments. I hope you’re arms to hold me in the dark nights of the soul. I hope you’re only momentary sorrow. I hope you’re filled with lessons and not regrets. I hope you’re used to convey the depth of His love for us. I hope you’re the beauty of the way He loves. I hope you’re His story and not mine.

But most of all, Someday, I hope you’re exactly who you are supposed to be.


One thought on “A love letter to my future.

  1. Pingback: All we can do is keep breathing. | The Heart of the Journey

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