Dudley’s writer’s group prompt was just — Who will you be?

Never have I been asked just, “Who will you be?”

I know who I am now, and
  who I will be in a hundred years is obvious.
    I will be dead and long gone and probably long forgotten.

Perhaps something I did or wrote will be remembered, –
  probably not.

I am old, so whoever it is that I am going to become
  will soon be known to me, but
    only when I get there.

That being the probable situation, and I being who I am,
  I will probably still be me. And
    I will still be recognizable to myself.

My personality has been drifting toward getting grumpier but
  I am trying, really attempting to try
    to create the habit of being kinder;
      kinder to other people
        and kinder to myself too.

If I am successful in creating that habit
  in a few years, I will be a noticeably kinder and
    a less grumpy person.

Nowadays when I see people do stupid things,
  I still get grumpy, and
    when I see it’s me thinking stupid thoughts
      I get grumpy with myself.

When I see it’s me that’s doing stupid things
  I get super grumpy.

So  —  “Who will I be?”
  say, in five years?
    A sweet kindly old man?
      Or, an obnoxious geriatric crank?

The way it’s going at the moment
  the most likely “me” will be … uh

When I am confronted with a situation that I am comfortable with
  I will be the kind, funny old guy, but

When I am involved in a bit of human stupidity
  I will react with the wimpy sarcasm of a feeble old fool.

Sarcasm is a trait I was infamous for in my teens
  so, as I revert through the aging process back into geriatric infancy
    I will probably go through a sarcastic period.

Some of my friends probably already think I’m sarcastic
  but it can get worse, and

If that reversion to childhood continues
  in ten years
    at age ninety-one
      I will become a cute kid, again.

A kid that young mothers will coddle, and
  hopefully, old ladies will feed chocolate chip cookies
      and milk too.

I don’t remember being kind
  as a little kid

I do remember wondering why the other kids were mean
  and my not participating in their meanness, but
    intentionally being kind, by seeing into other people’s problems
      and helping them work through those problems …

Well, that’s a bit advanced for a child.

Perhaps, for a geriatric man, reverting toward old-age infancy
  it may be possible
    to be intentionally kind.

So, perhaps, just perhaps,
  in my last few years on Earth rather than in it
    I will become a kind old man.

And perhaps people will say of me, like Hamlet said of his dead father,

“He was a man.

  Take him complete, with all his flagrant faults exposed,

He was a man!”