DAY 35 :: Do one thing on your list

"To tell a 23-year-old that she has but 37 days to live, and to ask her what she might do with those final days, is unfathomable, incomprehensible, mindboggling crazy talk (at least for this self-presumed invincible 23-year-old!). And yet, if today was Day One of the 37, here is what I would do:

At first, I would carry on normally, refusing to believe that my days were no longer infinitely spread out before me. I would trudge to my meaningless, soul-sucking job, counting down the moments to the start of grad school. A day or two — or five or seven? — would be “wasted” in this manner. And that would be okay. Because that is how I’ve lived my life — a stubborn optimist in all things.

I’d hold my mom and dad for a long, long time. I’d write them the letters I’d planned to give them on my wedding day — the letters that would try and say the very things that are beyond words. I would tell them I loved them out loud, over and over.

I would marry my boyfriend. I’d hold him all night. I’d tell him to love as hard and as often and as freely as he could. I’d tell him to keep our Senators season tickets and to never lose faith.

I’d gather my five younger siblings around me and read them my favourite stories. I’d play with them, as I have done for the past 23 years. We’d run and laugh and play until we couldn’t breathe, until our foreheads were beaded with sweat.

I’d take everyone I love to the ocean; that’s where it would end for me if I had a choice. My hopes, thoughts and dreams would be carried away with the big white waves, only to resurface in another time and place for someone else. I’d want my demise to be as poetic as possible.

I’d write down everything, anything that I could. I’ve always loved words; they would be my legacy.

I’d swim with dolphins. Chop off my hair. See a musical. See (some of) the world. Eat ice cream. Dance in the rain. Stay up really late. Eat mom’s pie. Find homes for all my pretty shoes. Take bubble baths. Lie in a hammock. Bake. Scream at the top of my lungs. Sing (a lot). Watch the sky. Look you in the eye. Hold hands. Hold babies. Pray. Beg. Try and find a way to stay.

And I think I’d cry a lot.  But I’d try to be brave."

For those beautiful words, a copy of LIFE IS A VERB will soon be on its way to Laura.

 As I read her list, I wondered what keeps us from doing all those things on our lists. Once the list is made, isn’t it an invitation to jump in, start checking things off? Perhaps start with the low-hanging fruit–chop off your hair and see a musical this month. Swim with dolphins in August. Eat ice cream, well, every single day. Those letters to your parents? Write them tonight. Mail them tomorrow. Better yet, hand deliver them.

Like Laura, let’s make our list and start marking things off.

And so, just like that, we’re down to 35 days until LIFE IS A VERB officially appears. See how quickly time flies?

(If you’d like to share what you’d do with your last 37 days, email it to me. I’ll share as many as I can in this countdown to the publication of LIFE IS A VERB on September 2nd.)