Three Days of Happiness

Communicating with letters wasn’t a common thing, and since
elementary school, I had no one to send New Year’s cards or
anything like that. There must have only been a few letters
throughout my whole life.
Aside from that when I was 17, the last letter I wrote was... in the
summer of fourth grade.
That summer, when I was ten, our class buried a time capsule
behind the gym. It was a suggestion from that same teacher who
gave us the morality lesson that first led me to think about the
value of life.
The students all wrote letters to put inside the round capsule.
“I want you to write those letters to yourself ten years from now,”
she said. “Maybe you won’t be sure what to write, since I just said
that out of the blue... I know, you can write things like “Did your
dream come true?”, or “Are you happy?”, or “Do you remember
this?”, or “What would you like to tell me?” There’s a lot you could
ask. You can also write about your own hopes, like “Please make my
dream come true,” or “Please be happy,” or “Please don’t forget
about this.””
She couldn’t have predicted that in a decade, some of those
children had given up on their dreams, weren’t happy, and had
forgotten a lot.
Maybe it wasn’t a letter for your future self, but a letter for you at
the time when you were writing it.
She also said this.
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