What if, as well as writing backwards into memory and experience, and writing now, on what is seen and felt before us. What if, we were to write forward?

Contained within is yes, all the years I have been, but it is also true that in me and my surrounds are the blueprints of all I will become.

I write then to my elder self.

Starting backwards, if I am fortunate enough to live to my 80’s, (which is double where I am now). When that time comes to lie with my ancestors, I hope I will have been looked after, I hope I’ll have been able to pour love downhill, down the generations like a waterfall – fresh and clear and it’s own kind of magnificent.

When I join the river above, which comes from the spring, the source of it all. The tributaries of my ancestors pooling together. Think of us there, both free flowing and still. Resting in a deep pool in a clearing, the sun warm through the leaves, dancing on the water, light flickers like fireflies. Life is dappled. So is death. I’ll wait for you here.

_{C o p y r i g h t © 2025 Kate Fox Robinson}