80 years from now, I might be in bed, waiting for my evening soup, waiting for my grandchildren from my nieces and nephews to come by and go to me to talk about how their day has been. They wouldn’t be talking about their crushes or even their boyfriends and girlfriends, I figured. They might be talking about how hard their lessons were and would ask me occasionally how my day has been. It wouldn’t be long enough because they would say that I have to rest, I need to save energy for the day ahead. They’ll leave me in the room alone, almost rotting to death. I would think about what I’ve done in the past 96 years and I will smile because I have the energy left to do so. I will think that my life hadn’t been the most perfect but there were people who made it closer to what perfect is. I would reflect and think that what matters the most now is not how things came rough for me before but how I spent my years, talking and walking around with people who might and might not be remembering me. I will close my eyes and tell myself how wonderful life has been to me.