Preservation

Preservation

I hope there comes a day where my feet are so sore, and my bones are so frail that I can no longer dance on top of a table. I hope there comes a day where I ask everyone to repeat everything and I need a hearing aid for conversation, and earplugs for live music. I hope there comes a day where all I can wear are loose linens, because my skin sags so much nothing else fits quite right. I hope there comes a day where I have to read journal entries to remind myself of everything that made my life worth living, because my memory is so full of stories, I need my written pages to help depict each moment I wanted to remember. If this day comes, somewhere in the very distant future, a future I currently cannot fathom. I will consider this life successful. You see, because if I am so lucky to see that day, where I am too sore to dance, it will be because I wore out my feet from all the sleepless nights doing just that. And if the day comes where I ask things twice, or need to plug my ears to endure music live, it will be because of all the years that I blasted music, or screamed along to a lifetime of concerts. And if the day comes where I need to relish in the years of journal entries to recall an important moment, it will be because there were simply too many to choose from. I want to wear out this body. I want to use it for all it can give me. I want to dance until my feet bleed, and sing until my throat goes hoarse, and flow at a concert where I leave my ears to ring until the morning. I want to swim in every ocean until my skin prunes and sit in the sun until I tan and blister. I want to enjoy and embody everything this vessel can give me. I want to love it and live in it. I don’t want to die with this body having looked un-lived in. I will get another one in the next life, but my soul will only benefit from embodying every experience. I want to die moon with the evidence that I lived to the absolute fullest