I went for a walk in knee deep snow in the meadow, one lap not my usual five. My heart began pumping as I trudged through the drifts. The soft depths looked so inviting I dropped down into it looking up to the sky; the blue, blue sky and noises of a snow-blower in the distance echoed. Our resident vulture circled me once giving up; too much life. But what if today was the day I dropped down in the snow dead. I know I won’t live to 91 as my mother did. I have my father’s genes. He died at 45, a brother at 51, both from a heart attack.
Am I ok if it this were my time? I have lived the good fight. If I were to go back I could not have tried harder or done different or better. I am ok with what I have done and accomplished and I forgive myself for the rest.
I like the idea of living each day as if it were the last, because we don’t know, it might be.