If...

At some point and time someone will ask you, If you had 24 hours left, what would you do with it? How would you chose to spend those last moments, and why?


My answers used to be fun-filled or packed with adventure, I would fly to Paris for breakfast, and I would sky-dive or bungee jump, do things that were exciting and filled every moment I had with daring and adrenaline.

And yet my real answer is nothing like that. When there was a whisper in my ear, letting me know that maybe I wanted to think about such things, my choices were simple.
I ate pancakes for breakfast with a boy with sparkling eyes and dimples, who still calls me Mommy, even though at 10 it's not that cool. I drank orange juice with a beautiful young woman who is wise beyond her years, who's intelligence and humor can't be hidden by the adorable smile and freckles on her nose.
I fought a duel on the Wii, and was victorious against 2 laughing minions who look a little like me, a little like their father and are entirely the greatests works of art I ever created.
I made snow angels and laughed as the flakes caught in my eyelashes and the wind numbed our cheeks.
I ate grilled cheese for lunch at my mom's kitchen table, with my minions, my parents and my siblings, and remembered all the faces of those who had sat there with me throughout the years.
I hugged everyone instead of keeping them at arms length.
I whispered what we knew were goodbyes though we still hoped they weren't.
I painted.
Music filled my evening as I danced in my kitchen.
I took a bubble bath and stayed up too late.
I wrote letters to those I love and set them in a drawer, with the words I hadn't been able to bring myself to say.
I reminded myself that I am not alone, that I am loved.
When I closed my eyes that night, I knew that I'd made good choices in my moments and was at peace with them, but I wasn't done.

The next few weeks were dark and cold and I'm glad I don't remember most of them. Now although I still am missing many, many answers and am not sure what the future holds, or how long I get to hold it, the sun shines again.

Every day I have another 24 hours.
It's never enough.