Dear reader from the future,
I’ve been reading a book about people in the 80s and 90s and thought about how different they live out their days from mine. And then it made me think further about how you might also be spending your days differently from mine, inspiring me to write about how I often start and spend my day, in case you’d end up wondering, as I did, about those living in the 80s and 90s.
I usually wake up cuddled beside my husband, feeling his skin against my face, or his warmth against my body. Sometimes, I just wake up realizing the gap between us, so I scooch over next to him. Being married for three years now, I’m starting to appreciate the value of preserving silence and letting our minds slowly drift into the morning. I don’t want my voice to ruin the serenity we’re still enjoying as we begin to attune with the sun rising and the birds chirping. So when I get out of bed, I just give him a kiss before I head out to feed our cat, Novo, his breakfast.
But then, just before going out of our room or after returning inside, I always get stuck on my phone. Sometimes, I even delay feeding Novo just so I could be on my phone a little longer. Sorry, Novo, who is already staring hard at me. What do I do? I check Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube to see what people are up to or if anybody has liked/viewed my recent post. I must be addicted to stats. There’s no other way of telling that, right?
In case those online social platforms were already decommissioned by the time you’re reading this, you could ask your AI assistant to give you a quick overview of what they are. But from my perspective, logging into them feels like getting the latest gossip (or updates) from your friendly neighbor without leaving your bedroom, dressing up, or gargling for fresh breath.
And so, I think again about the people in the 80s and the 90s. Are those dedicated to their art, like music, painting, and writing a book, just happened to be documented a lot, and so I am led to believe that the way they live feels like waking up to a concerto? Or I just need to read more about the common people in their time? Maybe what I’m really curious about are the nobodies—the ones who didn’t make it into any record but still lived full, unremarkable, beautiful days. No wonder Adrian Bliss made a whole book about them called The Greatest Nobodies of History.
Okay, where was I again?
After the phone, the cat, and the morning silence, we either have breakfast or we don’t. While I grew up in a household that made breakfast a requirement, living away from our parents meant we could set new house rules. So for the time being, breakfast isn’t something we impose on each other as my husband would insist—but breakfast is something I really, really, want to have because I can’t keep my stomach from getting wild and demanding it. I’m sure it would change once we have children.
Coffee. Yes, coffee. It’s a non-negotiable for my husband. Coffee and mornings go together.
Then the rest of our typical day—at least for now—is a jumble of various tasks. For me, it includes, but is not limited to: doing laundry, vacuuming, folding laundry, watching a movie or two while ironing clothes, blogging, and vlogging. Meanwhile, my husband juggles his time between being a full-time gamer and a house cook.
What about jobs, you say? Well, we are currently employed unconventionally—working remotely. I also still do freelancing on the side. And I am writing this during yet another major transition in my life—becoming an immigrant! So, a typical day for me in the next few months would surely warp into something I have yet to be accustomed to. Which is why I’m writing it down now, while I still can.
For now, let me enjoy my afternoon listening to classical music while thinking about those who lived before me—living their lives from a different time, getting on with what’s in front of them.
Your letter writer from the past,
Jessa