Thursday, November 06, 2008

waiting room

The other day I was at Penzoil getting my oil changed. As I sat in the grimey waiting room reading the obituaries of people dead already a week ago(their most recent paper was a week old), I honed in on their ages: 60, 73, 84. All of these words summing up a lifetime in "paid for paragraphs."

In our little metropolis, they run the court records and police logs but make you pay for an obit that lists anything more than survivors and service times. I am going to be fourty in few months. 60 is only twenty years from now. I am going to die someday. I will not be here. I am going to die and life will go on. It's just so hard to fathom not seeing what happens with my little love.

If I die when I'm I'm 60, half of my life is already over. How should we live our lives so that we have no regrets, so that we dwell in the importance of the here and now and not the when's or what if's?

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