To my 80-year-old self:
Hey. Gosh, I hope I’m doing this right.
I’ve been thinking about my son for the past few months, and I feel like I’m finally ready to write to you.
Who am I gonna be in 40 years? The best example in my life is grandma.
My college was about a mile from Grandma’s house. She just turned 73 the week I started my freshman year. She had lived a full, beautiful life. And she was there for me.
I left home at 18 and didn’t really go back.
Not for any particular reason, it’s just how it was. You go to college, maybe for the summer, but you really try to get work wherever work is. I spent those, those 4 years of college living on campus, but much of it was with Grandma.
She was such a lively woman from ages 73 to 77. I’d be lucky to have her energy. I’m doing what I can now to make sure you have that kind of energy.
She’s my inspiration and my hope for myself, which is you.
My son just started high school, and he’s doing great. I’m convinced he’s an extrovert. He’s really leaning into his extroversion this year. It’s a beautiful thing to see, but it means that he’s gone much more than he was in middle school and before.
He’s interested in hanging out on video chats with his friends. They call it the group chat of life, which is a wonderful name for eight teenage boys trying to make sense of the world.
He’ll talk for hours with his friends.
He started dating this year. He wants to be with his girlfriend as much as possible. I get it. It’s all part of it, but a little part of me is leaving.
I get him half time, and this time away means we’re together even less. I’m not complaining, just seeing that his progress means letting go. It means our time together is finite and precious.
I try to do big things, like I try to have his friend Dylan spend the night, or take trips all over the world. He’s been to four continents so far. I hope to visit Africa and South America in the coming years. It’s not important to him, but it’s important to me that he experience how other people live.
I support anything that he wants to do. I think he knows that even though he doesn’t ask for much.
One of my favorite things is kicking the soccer ball with him. Last night was Friday. We snuck onto the field at Miller Park before the women’s lacross game started at 7:45. I know it won’t be so easy in a few years.
Part of me just loves sitting on this green couch that we bought together. I’m on the right. He’s on the left. We don’t have to talk or anything. It’s just nice being together.
I look over at him, and I’m grateful.
I don’t know if you’ll remember these particular Friday nights sitting on the couch. Something in me wants you to remember what it’s like, to get the details of me sitting at my desk with this letter. The green couch at my back, the overhead lights, the smell of a sink half-full of dishes waiting for the laundry timer to go off.
This is where I am, and I’m hopeful that wherever you are, whoever you are, you remember.
I hope that you look back and feel a warm heart when you think about this green couch which is probably long gone. I you remember our son, sitting together, and being present.
I hope he knows all these years later that I’m here for him.
Craig
19 Apr 2026
