A Letter to You from Someday

When spring comes, I always feel the urge to open that mailbox.

I don't know why.

It's just that every year on the same day, my heart feels a little restless.

And then, in the spring I turned twenty-five.

I found a letter.

The sender was—myself.

"What is this..."

The envelope was slightly faded.

My name was definitely on the address line.

My name was also in the sender's field.

I didn't understand what it meant.

Was it a prank?

Thinking that, I opened the envelope.

Inside was a single sheet of stationery.

"To me at 25"

The moment I saw those words, my breath hitched.

It was handwriting I recognized.

My own handwriting.

There was no mistake.

"Hello.

If you are reading this, it seems my plan was a success.

I don't think you remember, though.

I don't understand what this means.

A plan?

I don't remember?

I read on.

When you were in the fifth grade, you buried a time capsule at school, didn't you?

Everyone wrote letters to the future.

But I was the only one who was different.

There was something I absolutely had to tell my future self.

That was when I finally remembered.

I did indeed bury a time capsule.

On the day of graduation.

It was under the cherry tree in the schoolyard.

But I don't remember the contents of the letter.

I continue reading.

Are you happy now?

Suddenly, my chest felt tight.

Am I happy?

When asked that, I struggle to find an answer.

Work is normal.

I have friends.

I am able to make a living.

But if someone asked me if I was happy, I felt like the answer was no.

If you are currently living your days just enduring them, I want you to read on.

I unconsciously straightened my posture.

You had a dream of drawing.

In that moment, memories came flooding back.

A dream from when I was little.

A manga artist.

An illustrator.

I loved to draw.

I used to doodle in my notebook every day.

But before I knew it, I had stopped.

When you become an adult, you think about reality.

Stability.

Money.

The future.

That is not a bad thing.

But I want you not to forget.

You only looked truly happy when you were drawing.

I laughed while reading it.

It felt like I was being lectured by my elementary school self.

If you are still drawing now, please feel free to close this letter.

But if you aren't, please draw just one picture.

I stopped reading at that point.

When was the last time I drew a picture?

I couldn't remember.

The next day.

On my way home from work, I stopped by a stationery store.

I bought a sketchbook.

I don't know why.

I just couldn't get that letter out of my head.

I returned home and held a pen for the first time in a long while.

My lines were shaky.

It was bad.

It was so bad it made me laugh.

But it felt strange.

It was fun.

Before I knew it, three hours had passed.

It was just like when I was a child.

I lost track of time.

After that, I drew a little bit every day.

One picture.

Then another.

I tried posting them on social media too.

No one was looking.

Even so, I kept going.

Six months later.

A single message arrived.

"Your art saved me."

It was a short message.

But it made me want to cry.

That night.

I read that letter once more.

I turned the last page.

There was a sentence there I hadn't noticed before.

"P.S.

You are probably mistaken about who I am, the one who wrote this letter."

I tilted my head in confusion.

"The one who wrote this letter is not you in the fifth grade.

It is you at thirty years old."

My mind went blank.

"If you don't read this letter now, you will live a future where you have given up on your dreams.

That is why I sent a letter to the past."

That was where the text ended.

Of course, such a thing is impossible.

There is no way a letter could arrive from the future.

Logically, that is what I think.

But there is one fact.

If I hadn't read that letter on that day,

I would still be living the same unchanging days.

On the desk lies a new sketchbook.

And next to it, an envelope.

The address was written like this:

"To me at thirty-five years old"

This time, it was my turn to send one to the future.

If you could send a letter to yourself ten years ago, what would you write?