I was chatting with the young woman at the check-out desk at my dentist’s office. Each of the three or four times I’ve talked with her, I liked her. She seemed like a kindred spirit. She asked me, “Are you off to do something fun for the rest of the day?”

It was late afternoon and I told her, “I’ve already done something fun.” (I had just come from participating in a volunteer project and lunch with two dear friends whom I hadn’t seen in a while). I continued, “I make sure I do something fun every day.” I shrugged my shoulders, “Because, just in case.”

She said, “I like that! I may adopt that for myself.” See? Kindred spirits.

And then I told her about the time BF and I were in the midst of a major remodeling project and I was sick of it and told him as I crawled into bed one night, exhausted and over it, “If I die tonight, write my epitaph, “She lay here pissed.”

So Many Sad Stories

Recently, I’ve come upon an abundance of stories about active, healthy humans whose lives have ended abruptly. People a decade younger than me who are, suddenly and without warning, gone from this Earth. Parents, partners, friends, and co-workers, gone. These reminders rest hard. 

You’d think, as a breast cancer survivor, the notion of living each day to the fullest would never leave my consciousness. My big sister died at age 46. My first husband was 52 when he left to pick up our son at a tennis lesson and died in his car while waiting at a stoplight. My parents, grandparents, and so many friends, were perfectly healthy, living life . . . until they weren’t.

But I do forget. I get bogged down with have-tos and necessities.

Remembering

But not this week. Not today. Right here, right now, I’m drinking in the reminders. Making sure I do something fun every day. Because, just in case. 

So, my prayer to the Universe is this: may I wake up each morning, remembering to do something fun. To say yes to joy. To appreciate meals, each bite of dessert, and every sip of a wonderful glass of wine. May I notice the flowers and puppies on my walks. May I be grateful for every workout, yoga class, and my yoga community. For every opportunity to make, be, or enjoy a friend. For every good night’s sleep and good book I read. 

My focus for this year is following joy. May I not forget-–even for a single day–-to do something fun. To make chores fun by blasting music and dancing. To watch the videos of the grandkids–again. 

Because, just in case.