What will I do?

What will I do with the time I have left” runs through my mind as I head out for an afternoon walk. Death will come in a much shorter time than I have lived. It causes me to ponder, what is important, what has been abandoned?

Wandering by the Happy Nappy Diaper Service truck I am still afflicted by the question. The vision of a child cooing a smile of gratitude provides no answer though the image brings warmth to my heart.

Cutting through Safeway and passing the DVD rental machine I encounter a gaggle of five and six year olds. They are all lined up, straight as a pin, a committee making a selection. They jabber endlessly over which one, but I think the one holding the Visa card will make the final decision. Not much has changed in the world of committees, between administration and execution, or between five and six or fifty and sixty.

Now blocks away and passing through a park, I witness courage. A young man walks with a white cane, its ball rolling ever forward, his stride strong and confident. The witness gives me hope and adds to my courage, for by comparison, I have so little to overcome

 Another small park, another small scene, a squirrel pushes his nose under the dead leaves of winter. He is aggressive in his actions, as if telling himself “I was sure I left it here.” But no such luck, he hears my steps and runs to another, and away from me.

Traveling past century old homes, the question returns. Turning to them one can see how much better renovation works for them, than me. I pursue the miles in maintenance of my health, but death stalks me. I see him in the passing of others, he smiles as if to say “see you soon.”

The sight of family gives me hope. A grandmother on the arm of her son, the wife ahead with twins, girls they are. One clutches her mother’s hand, the other leads triumphantly like a majorette leading a parade.

I walk pressing ink against the pad and wonder of time. I know I must use it well, for it is all I have to spend in paradise. No matter what I do, I must love, give, and cherish all that is beautiful, warm and alive. Let me not be dead in my actions or my time.

Live now, for there is no more.

David Hutchison…writer

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