WHERE ARE WE GOING
AND WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE
The sun is setting over the horizon and I can barely hear the rushing of the waves on the sandy beach below. I always need to be close to water- growing up it was Lake Michigan and now the Pacific Ocean that kisses California's coast. It's the perfect place.
Even from out here on the deck, I can hear my Roomba robot scurrying around as my dog growls at it from the couch, giving me a side eye of pure resentment every time the robot cleans too close to him. Though he really shouldn't be the one to complain - all the fur on the floor is his. Maybe I'll give him my plastic water bottle to play with when I'm done with it as an act of love. Hopefully he'll forgive me... at least until next cleaning day.
Layered across the table in front of me is a pile of papers: bills, my daughter's report card, a script from the movie I'm working on, and my mail-in ballot for next week's election.Unfortunate that I haven't taken a moment to look at any of it.
I know I need to go inside and pull myself back to reality, but there's something about the sunset... the time to reflect at the ending of the day. It's calming, it's uplifting.
We've made it.
When I think about the future, this is what I envision.
But what if that cannot become a reality?
What really is in store for us?
LETTERS TO OUR FUTURE
When we think about the future, we all have dreams. Expectations. Anxieties. And lots of them. What would you say if we could talk to the things that worry or frustrate us most about the future?