When I was in high school I sat down and wrote out all the goals I wanted to accomplish. I wanted to be a NYT bestselling author, be worth more than a million dollars, live in Oregon by a river with a dog. And I wanted to do it all before I turned 35, which is when I’d allow myself to get married.
Amazingly, I forgot about that list of goals. And yet, when I was in my mid-thirties a friend called. She’d found my list in a box of letters she’d kept from her childhood. Amazingly, everything on the list had come true. For whatever reason, I’d made it all happen.