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This Is How The Story Ends

Updated: Jan 4, 2021

Photo by Alex Quian from Pexels

It doesn’t take long for children to understand that life is fragile and that inevitably we will all die.

“Uh oh”. You’re thinking: I just wanted to read something inspiring or maybe even a little edgy. Don’t worry. This is not a morbid blog. I promise. I’m a children’s book author. This can’t be dark. Lord knows we have enough of that in the world right now. Ok, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Maybe it starts with losing a pet, or a loved one. Or maybe it’s a close friend that tells them about death. Maybe it happens from watching a Disney Movie. Hey, I’m still mourning the loss of Bambi’s mom. But however they learn, children understand the basic wisdom that this moment, right now, is all we really have. This business of doing something with their lives is abstract and blurry at best. Case in point, when I was five years old, I told everyone I was going to grow up and be an acrobat, well that, or a super star married to Michael Jackson. Looking back, ahem, I’d go with the acrobat dream now. Although, admittedly I have a hard enough time getting from my bed to the kitchen so launching myself through the air in front of thousands of people would be classified as a nightmare. But I digress.

We spend so much time consumed with becoming. Well that, and fighting for versions of ourselves that feel acceptable. We measure this by societal acceptance. By our pay checks. By how many friends we have on social media or clutch the pearls, in real life. And yet the truth is, that little kid inside of us who knew our days were numbered, but squeezed every last drop of joy out of the day just because, is still there. That deep knowingness is there. Becoming special or doing more isn’t really the point. And somewhere inside of us, we know this. We also know that it’s about finding our version of a cartwheel and doing that thing as much as we can. Every. Single. Day. It’s remembering that in between our birth and death, who we really are is the only punctuation mark that matters. Maybe it’s also about the Hokey Pokey too, but that’s up to you to decide.

Why am I sharing all of this with you? Because I have many forms of cartwheels ( I am milking the heck out the metaphor, I realize this) and one of them is writing. And because, well, I'm enjoying just being today and am reminded that sometimes we all need to hear we aren't what we do, or who we know. And that just being is a gift. Imagine that :)



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