Confession Tuesday: Life is Temporary Edition
I am a day late and large black drip coffee full. I am writing to you from a coffeeshop as my small town's major internet source is down... until 6 am tomorrow. No internet. A lesson is simplicity. Of course, I had a few things I needed to do, dear World.
These last 2 days have been a lesson on change. It happens. As much as I hold onto my typewriter, my beachy pink lipstick, my nostalgia for yesterday and the day before yesterday and even further back.
Let's just get down to it, it's been a hard week. To the confessional--
I confess I learned yesterday that someone I went to high school with passed away in her sleep at 42. She had 4 children.
When things like this happen, I want to disappear and eat dessert.
I want roll into the covers, to balance on the beam of a bridge, to live in a foreign country, to sleep and nap and eat large amounts of chocolate.
I heard that when Jackie Onassis was dying she said, "Why did I do all those sit-ups?"
Yes, life. We think you are this long walk on a beach and everyone cares about our cellulite.
We think our haircut matters, our old cabinets matter, our unmatched plates, or the blackberry bushes that sprout up in our yard.
We think we can "do it later" or "when we retire" or we are rolling the dice hoping for "Big Money" but we may get a Whammy! We may get a smaller number than we had hoped.
When someone my age dies (and in this case, 2 years younger, she was my friend, but for a long time in high school I knew her as a friend's little sister), it makes me consider my life (um, I'm always considering my life).
I watched my father get sick six weeks after retiring from his job. He died four years later.
I watched my sister get cancer and pass away in her 50's.
Six month ago, another friend died of a heart attack at 43. 43.
So I stop for a moment while the feelings are there--the feeling of "all this is temporary" and I try to reconcile how to plan for the future, but live for today. How to believe in a long life, but not put off too much, not set aside dreams or passions with the belief "I'll do it later."
I confess I am still doing kind acts for Lent, though these last 2 days I have just been going through the motions.
But all of it, what does it mean?
We are temporary. And that's kind of scary. But also freeing.
And I'm trying to live without complaining about the small things, to see the larger picture--we are only snapshots in this album, a moment captured, then set down.
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