The Time Capsule

Twenty-five years ago, on the last day of sixth grade, Ms. Thompson's class at Riverside Elementary School in Ottawa buried a metal box under the big maple tree in the schoolyard. Each of the twenty-two students put a letter to their future self inside, along with a few objects: a video game, a hockey card, a friendship bracelet and a photo of the class. "In twenty-five years," Ms. Thompson told them, "you will all have grown up, and we'll open it together."

She kept her promise. Last June, she sent an email to every former student she could find, and on a sunny Saturday morning, fourteen of them met under the same tree. Ms. Thompson was seventy now and had retired years before, but she was holding the same small shovel.

It took them twenty minutes to dig up the box. The metal was rusty, but inside everything was dry. They sat on the grass and took turns reading their letters out loud. Most of them began in the same way: "Dear future me, by the time you read this, you will have..."

Daniel's letter said that he was going to be a professional hockey player and that he would be living in a huge house with a swimming pool. Now he was a dentist, and he lived in a small apartment with two cats. "I'm still a great hockey player," he said. "On Sunday mornings. With other dentists." Everyone laughed.

Aisha had written that she would be living in Paris and working as a fashion designer. She had never been to Paris, but she had become a math teacher, and she loved it. "I was going to change the world with dresses," she said, "and now I'm trying to change it with algebra." Lucas had predicted that by now cars would be flying. He looked at the parking lot, full of ordinary cars, and shook his head sadly.

The last letter belonged to Emily, who had moved to Vancouver with her family a week after they buried the capsule. Nobody had heard from her since then. Her letter was short: "I hope I will still be friends with everyone in this class. If I'm not, I hope I will come back and find them." There was a long silence. Then a woman at the back of the group, who nobody had recognized, raised her hand. "Well," she said, smiling nervously, "I came back."

They spent the rest of the day together at a restaurant by the canal, telling stories and comparing their old dreams with their real lives. Before they left, Ms. Thompson handed out paper and pens. They wrote new letters, put them in a new box and buried it under the same tree. "In twenty-five years, we will all have retired," Daniel said, "and I will finally have that swimming pool." "Don't worry," said Emily. "This time, I'll be here to check."