One Last Time
This morning, we’re off on what I anticipate will be filed in the category labeled Finale. As in the last time you engage in a life event (not something as mundane as going to the grocery store) with the full knowledge that, given your place on your particular, unique timeline, this will not, of your own volition, occur again. It’s not unlike the feeling I get when a salesperson asks if we want the extended warranty on whatever we’re purchasing. “Oh, that’s great,” you say, taking the length of that proposed time, adding it to your current age, and thinking two things simultaneously. A) I hope I live that long and B) if I do, what will my life look like at that point? Perhaps it’s emerging from the post-pandemic cocoon of unrelenting stress and worry, but I’m noting a plethora of conversations among my peers having to do with, “I could be next.” It's no longer enough to feel badly for the people in the shared stories who have experienced the dre...