It is a familiar scene. Stale coffee, high-pitched voices and low whispers try to find a home among the puke yellow painted walls. There are people everywhere trying too hard to mask what they are feeling. I overhear a couple of voices as I go up to the hospital elevator. “When do you think he will be out?” The woman with strawberry-blonde hair fumbles with her Chanel glasses and diamond encrusted cell phone case. “I don’t know. You can’t predict these things.” The man responds to her, but keeps looking straight ahead. He’s dressed in a black suit, but his toupee is not sitting quite right on his head. The elevator is filled with the faint smell of cheap cologne, the kind teenage boys spray right before going to the mall.
These same conversations are repeated elsewhere. In waiting rooms, corridors, in the hallway, in bathrooms, in quiet moments in the hospital chapels. For some, the news is good. There is a finite end to the waiting. “He’s in recovery. And with some rehab he will be fine. He can go home.” For others, there is another ending to the ending. I still remember when the oncologist told us. “This is the end. There is nothing we can do. I am sorry.” Those words filled the air, looking for a place to land. It’s a conversation I’ve replayed in my head many many times. Before that moment, hope was clenched inside our fists, like a child holding on to a red balloon, afraid if she lets one finger go, it would escape. With that announcement, the balloon had to fly in the sky.
I’ve come to understand that many of us aren’t focused on the image of the balloon in the sky, including myself. We exist, but do we really live? In all of our lives, there will be a point when it is too late. You won’t be able to make that phone call, take that vacation, or realize that dream you keep stomping out by stuffing it at the bottom of some junk drawer. My father left some of his dreams unfulfilled because he kept waiting for later. Later is a dangerous word because sometimes it comes sooner than you may anticipate. I write this today because I need to be reminded. I’ve been existing, but am I living? Some days, yes, but other days I am procrastinating on my dreams, waiting for a better, “later” time.
Now. That is where the living happens. Existing only happens later. Or not at all.
Image by .Larry Page
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Live your dreams today, because tomorrow in not promised to anyone. xo
Ayala,
Yes. I think we should remember this sentiment as much as we can. Thank you.
{Melinda} Wonderful perspective! We are only guaranteed the moment we’re living in, so we have to embrace it! My family was reminded of this recently when my very healthy, active mother-in-law contracted a very serious brain infection. She was in a coma for a month and nearly died. She survived, but is seriously mentally impaired. The morning it happened, she had walked four miles and was playing tennis. We don’t know what life will bring. Embracing God’s best for us today — we’ll never regret that.
Stopping by from SITS!
Welcome! Thanks for reading and adding your thoughts.
I am sorry to hear about your mother-in-law. The unexpected is what I fear, but it is what drives me to embrace the minor irritations and bumps that comes along with living. I’ve learned to really lean into the glory of the mundane.
Living is something we do when we live in the present and know we are there. I used to think that multi-tasking was a great accomplishment and I was the queen of it, how else could I juggle 3 children, husband, a business, school and volunteer projects. Now I know that doing one thing at a time, no matter if it’s talking on the phone, folding laundry or exercising, it requires I be there, in the moment and feel the dishtowel as I fold it, listen to my friend on the phone with all ears or feel the stretch in my muscles as I prod them through the weights. I want to experience living, every day, every moment, and doing what I want to do without being tied to lists of have-to’s. I find if I live in this way, I can do so with no regrets and there is no later as I am actively living each day to its potential.
Rudri, what a great reminder to live the moment…
Thanks for reading and commenting. I am grateful that my words resonated with you.
Hope clenched in our fist? Made me realize what else we clench in our fists….our busy-ness, our possessions, our way of seeing the world, ie our need to be right, our worries, our fears…so spiritually healthy to release our clenching grip on them.
Beautiful sentiment, Rudri.
Barb,
I am so guilty of holding onto all of those things that you mentioned. It’s the act of loosening those fingers and learning to slowly let go and truly live. Thanks for your thoughtful comment.
I understand this so well. We need to seize the day. Use the good linens, eat with those silver cutlery stashed for special occasions, wear that nice dress to the supermarket, say I Love You when the other person least expects it. My list goes on and I’m reminding myself each day to really live.
Another beautifully written post. It is sometimes easy to fall into an existing mode, to be passive, rather than actively living. You not only remind me to live every moment, but to cherish relationships and not take them for granted.