It was after we had come so close to dying that we embraced it as our fate. Our eventuality.
We stopped hoping we’d never die and prayed that the day of our demise have us in a head covered with grey hair and skin rumpled like clothes unearthed from a carelessly packed travel bag.
Now, all we ask the universe is a chance to stay here much longer so as to give everything we have. Not that we have received so much from this life, but because for some of us we came with a truckload, and of course we need more from life, but then again there’s so much we have to give.
A little romance here and there with death and now we’ve seen how fickle our existence is, how we’re so much, yet nothing. And now we walk with our hearts even humbler because we know now that it takes a second for it to come crashing down.
One close shove and another and we look back to the days when we took the love for granted, when we refused to tell the ones we loved how much we did, when we held back from sharing our gift, and now we know that we’ve been fools.
Did we think we had all the time in the world? Nothing is even ours.
Now we love without holding back, and we make sure that every single second with the ones we love is taken and made gold, we say ” I love you ” a million times and it never sounds cliche because after all is said and done, we love them. Now we’re all up in people’s faces demanding to be heard, demanding that this gift that we’re obligated to give be taken.
They’ve pushed us back and made us think fools of ourselves, then we go back and hurt and hurt through the cricket chirps till we say we’ll never try again, but we wake to the sweet sounds of tiny birds and an even stronger resolve to leave this earth empty of all that we came with.
One dead, another dead, and we’re caught in reflection, deep reflection.
This will be us someday, and as much as we prayed that it’s not us anytime soon, we know too that that man lying lifeless in a box prayed too. Even harder.
So we’re charged up again. We go out living every second like it’s our last.
Because maybe, just maybe, it just might be.