—-I want to live in the present moment.
Every. Single. Moment.
—as if it’s my last, as if I’m dying, as if I matter, as if my heart has a limited amount of beats left.
Not small beats— but large beats like…
::::BA DUM, BA DUM, BA F*cking DUM::::
Like I’m truly alive. Like every moment has its own personal sun and moon and glittering stars.
I want to bathe in it, immerse in it, drown in the blue of it until I’m gone, gone, gone.
I don’t want to agonize about what occurred in the past or what might happen in the future. I don’t want to worry about my beautiful, dead sister, or growing old, or my boys leaving me, or climate change, or domestic abuse, or people murdering one another, or Donald Trump.
I want to savor the “Now” as if I’m a Monk falling to the soil in my flowing, white gown…even palms and knees and face taking sweet benediction.
Surly, God lives inside those moments.
I want to remember nothing except “Now”—how the light sprinkles upon my auburn hair like hot gold, how the pounding of my pink tennis shoes hit the cement sidewalk as I walk up Cody Street and 65th, how the red Retriever behind the stained glass window smiles at me.
No past. No future. Only “Now.”
No more laters, or tomorrows, or nexts, or thens, or afterwards, or what shall I make for dinners…
Just this breath, this air, this space.
I’ll never have it again.
These fleeting moments, this blood surging through these veins.
I want feel the touch of your hand on my skin as it’s happening. No more dreaming or reflecting or reproducing the act…but experiencing the warmth of fingertips to cheeks “at the present moment.”
I want to disregard yesterday and tomorrow (for just a little while.)
Swallow every moment as it’s approaching absolutely whole.
—Dear, Reader, are you living in the present moment? Is this something you desire?