Let me not die the little death of a little life little lived.
And by lived I mean enjoyed. I mean forgetting the bloating. And if you can’t appreciate your body for doing her thing, let’s at least not ruminate on that excess, sodden feeling. By lived I mean that first sip of coffee. Donuts for a friend. Sunshine, sunshine, sunshine and taking medicine. By lived I mean throwing the windows wide open (metaphorically speaking) and sliding them high on their tracks (practically speaking). By lived I mean crying over your plate of eggs and toast at the diner when that sad song from A Star is Born (2018) comes on. Letting the tears streak your cheeks as the waiter refills your coffee. By lived I mean reading books for pleasure rather than for your Goodreads Challenge. Pulling that one book out of that stack that always sits on your desk, and searching for that one specific essay that you can’t quite place…the one about hummingbirds and their tiny hearts, whales and their ginormous hearts, and the human heart and what a spectacularly fragile organ it is. By Brian Doyle - that’s it! The one that makes you tear up with the beauty of life and death every time you read it. By lived I mean wearing the white pants when you have your period. (You might go as far as to sit criss-cross applesauce.)
By lived I mean making food for the hell of it. Dicing and chopping and grating to your heart’s content. And when the onions start to hit, you pretend to cry large, heaving sobs because it’s much more fun to embrace the stinging tears than to fight them. By lived I mean going to therapy again. Helping your friends cross that same bridge. I mean having better sex, and some weeks no sex, and some weeks so much sex. And have we talked about baths yet? Baths with bath bombs, baths with bubbles, unadulterated plain faucet water baths. Candles and books and a vibrator and Diet Coke. Baths that prune your fingers like you’re five-years-old. By lived I mean that feeling of utter romance as you hear the first notes of the Pride and Prejudice (2005) opening scene. By lived I mean going through phases where you ogle and obsess over Darcy (Macfadyen) and Cillian (Murphy) and other enticing men. By lived I mean absolutely guilt-free filling yourself to the brim. With food. With wonder. With ordinary. With whim! By lived I mean watching the leaves on the branches with their fluttering synchronized ballet, their bourrées teeny-tiny stepping across the windy stage. By lived I mean being a master of none. Some days a little of this, some days a little of that, a pinch of hehe and a sprinkle of woohoo! Like Madeline to the tiger at the zoo, to Mastery I simply say, “Pooh Pooh.” (That felt like a deep cut, but a life lived has those too.)
By lived I mean rejoicing in being one of the masses; one of the millennials with their newfound appreciation for birds and trees — their grandparents were really onto something. By lived I mean a life not measured by work. I’ll say it again. A life not measured by work or jobs or promotions. Instead a life of holding hands. Papery hands, rough hands, squeezed and stressed hands. Grandmother hands, best friend hands, boyfriend and aunt hands. Touch them, caress them — oh! The joy of touch and connection! By lived I mean rest. I mean joy and dance. I mean watching your belly rise and fall, watching the leaves do that as well. Listening to your lover laugh at a meme. Smiling. Smiling. Please, more smiling. I mean taking that sweet shower when you’ve waited three days and having your sister ask why you look so good. I mean dancing in the house with the dogs to the record as it plays. I mean not bothering with removing your toenail polish because you will slowly clip it away. I mean unconscious hugs where boobs squish to boobs or to belly or to face. Maybe you’re feeling silly so you give that hug a little wiggle so everything smooshes and jiggles. Silliness. Lots of silliness. I proclaim that this life be lived with as much silliness as can be sputtered!
By lived I mean thinking of others. Thinking of yourself. Learning to balance which comes first when. Being in the gray. Echoing the mantra “It’s okay.” By lived I mean being afraid that you will look back on your life and think, “Shit. That was it?” But then you’ll remember that you are trying to be gentle and kind and compassionate; to be a change-maker and pattern-breaker; to sometimes claw your way through what feels like crushing pain; to love the world, to love yourself. And you’ll think that it’s safe to say that a life lived is no small feat. Indeed, you’ll think that perhaps, a life simply lived is a precious and wild thing. (May Mary Oliver rest in peace.) So you may, one day, die the death of a little life. But hear ye, hear ye! It will be grandly lived. (See above.)