Fresh today Β· Saturday, 6 June

New Wishes

A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up β€” copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.

Drawn at dawn
Wishes in the library
92,976

Wishing you years free of insurance forms and full of unbooked afternoons.

May the next decade smile back at you as widely as your patients always did.

Here's to a remarkable dentist becoming a remarkably relaxed retiree.

Wishing you a retirement so good your former patients will be jealous β€” politely, of course.

Doctor, after decades of charts and rounds β€” may your next chapter be measured only in slow mornings and warm coffee.

Hanging up the stethoscope means trading pagers for porch swings β€” wishing you a retirement as healing as the work you gave others.

↑ pick one up
Browse by occasion

What are we writing today?

Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one β€” pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.

More from today

From midnight calls to Sunday mornings without alarms β€” your patients were lucky, and now your weekends finally are too.

May the hands that steadied countless lives now turn pages, plant gardens, and rest however they please.

Decades of diagnoses, and the only prescription left is leisure β€” fill it generously, Doctor.

Few people leave behind a wake of healed lives β€” congratulations on a career that mattered, doctor.

Trade scrubs for slippers, charts for novels β€” you have earned every quiet hour ahead.

Your retirement is overdue by about ten thousand patients β€” enjoy each unhurried day, doctor.

May your golf swing prove as steady as your suture, and your fishing trips longer than your shifts ever were.

After saving so many days for others, take all of yours back now β€” twice over.

The hospital loses a healer; the world gains a fisherman, a gardener, a grandfather β€” congratulations.

Retirement suits you, doctor β€” same calm voice, finally aimed at sunsets instead of monitors.

Wishing you mornings without rounds and evenings without rounds β€” just rounds of applause for a career well lived.

You taught residents, comforted families, mended bodies β€” now let the world quietly mend you back.

May the next chapter be slow medicine β€” long walks, longer naps, and laughter prescribed daily.

Doctor, your career was a long house call to humanity β€” rest now, you delivered.

From scalpels to seed packets β€” may your retirement projects all heal without complications.

Goodbye to night shifts, hello to nightlong sleep β€” congratulations on a beautifully long career.

The stethoscope retires, but the wisdom stays β€” wishing you peace as steady as the heartbeats you listened to.

May travel replace triage, and hobbies replace handoffs β€” you have given more than enough.

After a lifetime of being on call, may every hour now answer to you.