I hope you get old.

I hope time is heavy on your bones, draped over you like an embrace from God.

I hope the backs of your hands become deep maps—

Of all the places you have been. 

Dark stains where your fingers dipped into clay and dirt and mud.

I hope you get old.

I hope time fills your heart with joy and triumph.

I hope you have enough obstacles to teach you character and empathy and enough challenges to bestow you with uniqueness.

I hope pain shows you how strong you are and the value of a true friend.

I hope you’ve been alone enough to know yourself.

I hope you find quiet more than you find chaos.

I hope you get old.

That time wraps around your legs like a desperate lover.

I hope you can look into the faces of people you have loved and cherished and that you leave behind echos of grief, 

Because you were loved in turn.

I hope you give thanks for every waking moment, 

For what you have and for what you have not.

I hope you get old.

I hope you make things that last.

I hope you’ve inspired people.

I hope you’ve helped someone.

I hope grace rests at your feet.

I hope.

You forgive everything,

You did Not Get Quite. Right.

--Jann Arden