When Do You Expire?

Have you ever noticed that everything has a expiration date...milk, eggs, cheese, bread...even my mascara. I, however, ignore them. I tend not to pay them any attention. Until it tastes funny, smells funny, grows mold, or makes my eyes itch it's fair game. There is a benefit to those little black letters they stamp on boxes and bags...I have some idea of when I will open the milk carton only to find cottage cheese. It is then true, the milk has in fact {Expired}. {Expired} ...the sterile medical term for kicking the bucket, going on to a better place, biting the dust, passing on... No matter how you say it, dying is still one of the only things certain in this life. Unfortunately for me, I have yet to find any of those small dark numbers any where on my body. No date indicating approximately when I might find myself waking up to only to discover I'm, well...dead. With the {when} and the {where} the uncertain in the certain, life must be found in the {what}.

I heard of a man who spoke at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone, from the beginning--to the end. Noting first the date of her birth, and the following date with tears. But, then he said what mattered most was the dash between those years. A dash represents the time spent on this earth, and only those that love her know how much that line is worth. It matters not how much we own...the cars, the house, the cash. What matters is to live and love--and how we spend our dash.

{What} do we do with our dash. With the recent simplification of my life...school's out and only working part-time...I have more free time than ever in my life! It's amazing how quickly I went from utilizing my new found leisure time to letting it go to waste. Somehow, life's basic activities have had a weak grip on me since the thought of a tomorrow without a deadline or pressing obligation is ever in the forefront of my brain. There's always tomorrow... right? Alas, there is an expiration date somewhere. For whatever it's worth, until I find theat little black date stamped on my butt...Deathclock.com says I'll die on Saturday, June 21, 2053. Only 1,421,010,440 seconds to live. So, before my card is punched, it's time to live, laugh, love (passionately, I might add) and be the best me I can be.