I was talking to her about life, about its slipperiness, about how it can get away and then you find yourself at 80 in your front porch rocker, wondering what might have happened if you had just......taken that trip to India or if you had just..... changed that job you never loved or if you had just...... told him he was the one.
Oh, you know what I mean.
I told her that I worried about how the every day crowded in on us. The mundane details, the petty arguments, the stack of bills. But I also told her that I felt I could fill my lungs, I could get beyond that, I could see the future glimmering, glimmering. That I awoke with a sense that good things were coming, that they were happening today, yes, today.
And then I told her that she was really not so different than me and I was really not so different than her. But for good things to happen, you had to believe that they could and make it so they would. And that life shouldn't be lived on auto-pilot but driven by rolling down the window, turning on the radio, and grabbing the steering wheel.
And so maybe she should go on that trip to India, even if it meant going alone. And maybe she should leave that job, since five years was enough to know. And maybe she should tell him that she had realized.....that he was, indeed,
the one.