Why I Can't Live Like Every Day's My Last
Just over two weeks ago, Jeff and I were getting ready for a trip to Mexico, and as some people are inclined to do, they shared with us advice on the dangers of travelling to, well, Mexico. So because I can be a bit of a dramatist (working on adding a “former” in the front), I found myself in the days leading up to our departure date looking at the people and things around me as if I were potentially seeing them for the very last time. As I interacted and talked with various people, I found myself wanting to make good memories and leave good impressions in case, you know, this was it.
Horribly maudlin, isn’t it?
I finally realized just how maudlin a road my thoughts were plodding along when, as I puttered around the house a couple of days before our departure, I found myself looking at a recently purchased coffee mug wondering if I would get to use it more than once.
Yeah. (You did catch the part about me being a recovering dramatist, right?)
Thankfully, the brakes on that train of thought were swiftly and judiciously applied. Brighter colours infused my vision once more.
For I’ve realized this is how I can better live however many days I do have on this spinning sphere: By enjoying each moment because I don’t know when (or if) a particular experience or moment or memory-in-the-making will come my way again. Not because it could be the last thing I do (ever!), because holding that thought in my head and my heart produces a treacle-like mess that pulls me down. It messes with the colours, with the moments I am having right now to the point where there is no joy or hope or peace in them. And that is not a good thing.
So here’s to appreciating the moments I have now as opposed to letting them pass on by because my view of things is negatively skewed. To date, it has been better that way. :-)