Of death and living
Saturday morning, I heard news through another friend's tears that a woman I had spoken with on Friday was killed--along with her husband--by a drunk driver.
They were pedestrians.
They were celebrating his birthday.
They were 26 years old.
And while I didn't know CJ, I knew Lauren.
And Lauren was a light.
As I drove to meet my friend for brunch (because we didn't know what else to do except see each other in person), I looked over and saw the Paris fabric in the passenger seat of my car. It was a remnant of the booth we'd manned the day before celebrating the city. As we snapped photo-booth style images in front of our fake Eiffel tower, we had no knowledge that in those very hours the city was under the most personal of attacks.
My friend, Dara-the-Courageous, and I looked at the dessert case at our brunch place. She said, "I don't know about you, but I just really feel like living today." We ordered cake with our breakfast.
None of us know how much time we have. And it always feels so much longer than it really is.
I do know that life is a gift, and that I want to spend every minute of it being in love...practicing my art...celebrating with joy all of the beauty...doing work I love with my friends...
We don't have time for complaining.
We don't have time for plastic comparisons.
We don't have time for any single thing that isn't helpful, loving, generative and kind.
I don't know how the tragedies struck you, but I do know this...
We have a finite number of minutes.
We have to invest them well.