Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear 100-Year-Old Me,
You made it. A full century of life. I can only imagine all the stories, the love, the heartache, and the laughter that have shaped you into the person you are now. Are you at peace? Have you lived in a way that makes you proud?
Right now, I’m in a season of transition—an empty house, a quieter life, but a heart still full. Nathaniel is home for spring break with his college roommate, and I find myself wondering where life will take him. Has he found happiness? Has he built something beautiful? Does he still call just to say hi?
And Josiah—my firstborn, my mechanic, my steady rock in so many ways. I hope he’s still out there, fixing things, making people laugh, rolling his eyes at whatever chaos I’ve brought him into next. Did he ever slow down? Or is he still knee-deep in grease, helping everyone around him? I hope you still see him often, still hear his voice, still feel the strength of that unbreakable bond between a mother and her son.
Josh and I are growing closer in this new season, leaning into each other, finding new adventures in the quiet. We’re making our home even cozier—right now, we’re turning a bedroom into a den, a space for rest and reflection. Have you spent many peaceful hours there, lost in thought, feeling the warmth of all the memories made within these walls?
And the ocean—does it still call to you? I hope so. I hope you’ve never stopped feeling the magic of the waves, the thrill of finding the perfect seashell, the peace that only the sea can bring. If you haven’t been in a while, please go. Let the water wash over your feet one more time.
I know the years have brought loss. My heart aches for the goodbyes you’ve had to say, the people you’ve had to let go of. But if you’re reading this, it means love carried you through. It means you kept going. I hope you’ve forgiven yourself for the things you couldn’t change and held onto the love that never fades.
Are you proud of me? Did I become the woman I always hoped to be? I pray that when you look back, you see a life well lived—not perfect, not without struggles, but full of love, adventure, and meaning.
If there’s anything left undone, do it now. If there’s anything left unsaid, say it today. Even at 100, there’s still time for one more memory, one more laugh, one more “I love you.”
With all my love,
Me (the younger version who hopes she’s made you proud)
Sandy’s Stories and Tales 