Is life a race, or a destination? Starting now, it is both. A person’s life often is measured in years and accomplishments. Seldom is a person’s life measured in days. Here is my race to add a few days to life.
“Two, maybe three months.” Solemn, soft spoken, yet surprisingly cool and distant words with an edge of finality; the end result of dozens of tests and medicines and therapy, spanning years and months and weeks. And days.
What is that? 60 days? 90 days? If so, if there are no alternatives, my simple desire is to see the prognostication wrong, extend those days; starting now.
Granted, that’s not much, not even much of an extension, but it’s a start.
What can be done in 101 days? Eat right? Exercise? Visit with family and friends? I’ve done all that many times over and the Bell Curve still tolls for me.
What can be done in one day?
Thoughts. Mine and those shared by others.
Food. What I want that tastes good and what my body needs. They’re not always the same.
Family. Just to be there. That’s what they’re for, right?
Friends. To talk about yesterday and share hopes for tomorrow.
Beach. Sand between the toes, wind through the hair; the way God intended.
Sleep and dreams. There are times I want this one higher on the list.
Sex. Easier said than done but, hey, it’s on the list, too. Maybe it just a part of the dream.
I promise not to measure my life by years and accomplishments. There’s too many of the former, too few of the latter, so I’ll just keep busy on the other items.
101 days. That has a nice ring to it.