Start Me Up: Old Gal at 100

Daily writing prompt

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

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Dear Jan,

I’m hoping you’re still called Jan but betting you’ve transitioned to Mother Wilberg or Miss Jan. Jan doesn’t seem quite aged enough for a 100-year-old gal. Gal. Old gal.

Hey old gal! How’s it going? Are you cheery? Are you glad? Are you a glad old gal? Old gal, can you rub your hands together and remember all the men you knew, all the babies parked in their bouncy chairs on the kitchen counter, the feel of turning a corner without hitting the brakes, leaning into the turn, your dogs running across a green field while you called their names?

I want to tell you I went to the Rolling Stones concert in Vegas when I was 76. And, amazingly, the Stones – all of them older than me – looked crazy fine. Mick pranced his way up one side and down the other of that stage and, of course, they had all the giant blow-up stuff, like they did thirty years ago when I saw them at Alpine Valley and a few years ago at Summerfest. I’m not a groupie by any means, but there’s not much better than Mick Jagger doing “Start Me Up,” am I right, old gal, or what? The man is electric, beyond electric. Cosmic. I know you remember. Seeing Mick dance affects your cellular structure, no joke, close your eyes for thirty seconds, it’ll flood back. Let it. Never mind who’s come in the door to check on you. You’re fine. Totally fine.

Being 100 has got to be deep, old gal. Probably a little tension producing since it was my goal to live to be 100 but I didn’t plan much for over achievement, like 101, 102, and so on. But go on, keep living. Show ’em all what’s what. Show ’em what cool looks like for the ages.

Love,

Your little bit younger self, Jan

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Photo by Luca Di Giovine on Unsplash