Fading...

Life is short. That is too true. Sometimes we rush though things and don’t realize how brief a time we have on this earth. Everyone has done it. I am equally guilty of the rushing through life – rat race thing. Too busy, must earn more, must get more, and must do more. As New Yorkers, we don’t usually stop and enjoy a moment. When was the last time you allowed yourself to sit in a park? Just went without plans? Nothing to do, no cell phone, and no rush; just enjoyed the smell of the new grass and leaves. When was the last time you sat and had a conversation with a child for an hour? Asked advice of an elderly person and sat and listened for a few hours? If you are anything like me it’s been a while. When was the last time you watched a squirrel or a bird with rapt attention?

Here is the question that I pose to you…What’s the rush? What difference does it make in the end if we are wearing designer jeans or sweats… Life is so short. When I was young I felt that I had forever to finish doing all of the things that I wanted to do. Now I realized that I don’t. Time is passing by and I am not getting any younger. But still in all, that is not a reason to stop appreciating the world around me. It does not give me a reason to not spend time watching the water or a sunset. Why is it so hard to make time for the little important things? It’s good to feel close. It’s good to love, even if it’s for a moment. I have been watching a beautiful strong wonderful man fade from this world for the last few months. I sometimes wonder as I look into his speechless face how many of the images he sees in his mind are about the things he was in a rush to acquire or if they are the beautiful simple moments he spent sitting in a park or enjoying holding his partner’s hand? How much of the hours he spent working and the commuting and paying bills does he recall? Can he remember the smell of the ocean, the feel of sand on his feet the sun on his chest? With all of my heart I hope that he does. I hope he can recall the taste of a freshly made taco and a cold Modelo. I hope that the sounds of a mariachi band on the streets of Mexico City are playing in his head. Images of the vejigantes on the streets of Puerto Rico at carnival dance through the day. Memories of Summers on 116th street, fresh accapurria and ice cold malta. I hope that all of our small moments together, an shared inside joke, singing a song or doing a dance together are with him as well. I wish for him that his last memories are not filled with regrets but with joy and recollection of the small things.

From this moment on, promise yourself to take time, to take time. Schedule doing nothing if you must, with no plan and no direction. Get up, leave your home and go nowhere in particular. Talk to anyone you meet. Sit on a park bench and think about silliness. You have forever to work. You can work until you die. But don’t put off life.