“You will fix it for me.” One day I won’t be around to hear that. I am not, nor have I ever been, invincible. I look at the split second it takes for an accident to occur and I realize that my life is not my own. It is on loan. The problem is that we think everyone with our blood running through their veins is ours. We assign pronouns to the people in our lives. But they are not ours and as cliche as it might sound neither is tomorrow.
I had an accident on 10/30/2019. As accidents go, it was pretty run of the mill. It wasn’t so much the accident that woke me from my stupor. It was the fact that it had been my second accident in a week. My mortality came into focus. Just the fact that one small act could end me was enough to wake me up.
I have always wanted to make my life worthwhile. I know we don’t work out our salvation. But life has to have some deeper meaning. More than just “being here”. I asked a homeless man outside of Popeyes “how is your day doing ?” He smiled and said “I’m surviving.” We always ask each other that question. But are we spouting platitudes? That day I meant it. I wanted to know how he was doing. I didn’t want to hear “I’m fine. Thank you.” He gave the most honest answer he could. And I loved him for it.
Somehow his surviving means more to me than my surviving. Somehow I think he’s having a much deeper impact on the world around him than I am. He’s surviving and I am existing.
