Who wants to die? The answer is a unanimous din; no one want to die, we all want to live forever, Heaven knows why!  Today, I want to live and I know why. Flimsy the reasons may seem, nonetheless, I want to see the lovely flowers in continuous bloom, I want to see the moon hanging low in the sky, yellow like the yoke of a large brown egg. I love seeing the trees with their different shapes and sizes and the fruits they bear, edible or not.

I love the little crabs that try to scuttle beneath a rock before the next wave flood the warm sandy beaches of my island home.  I love the big horse flies and the terrible over-sized bumble bees that chase me around the house. I run screaming like a happy lunatic brushing my head frantically in case one or two got tangled in my hair (when I had hair).  I love the smell of hot earth after a sudden downpour.  Portland after a midday shower and the over-sized foliage bend under the weight of crystal raindrops. I love SNL’s wild cry, “Live from New York, its Saturday Night.”That gives me a rush I cannot explain. Live from New York. I am alive in New York.

I want to live because I cannot bear the idea of leaving miles and miles of unread books; recently I got an old school typewriter as a gift. Why would I leave that? I need to live so that I can cook more marvelous meals in my kitchen and color-code the dishes to be served on beautiful china like a Monet, Dali or renaissance art. Balanced for their interpretations and beauty rather than their health values (You should know not to eat them, there will never be a sign that says, ‘not for Diabetics’).

To hear and smell percolating coffee is to live and die for. Nothing more to say.

I want to live to write letters to my friends on linen writing paper using a fountain pen sometimes blotting my fingertips with black Waterman ink which I keep hidden for fear of the grandchild.  I want to live to marvel at how dark the skies are before a storm or how cold it gets before the big blizzards when swarms of blackbirds flock the trees in the front yard and I think crazy things like, ‘The Birds’ and Alfred Hitchcock. Poor Tipi Hedren.

I want to live so I can ponder the reason I am alive and how come I am alive, and for what purpose I am alive. It’s good to be alive to ponder and capture friends in small spaces posing questions they don’t wish to think about, like what is death to you?  To have them become exasperated with me while silently vowing to avoid me at all cost next time. 

I want to live to anticipate the UPS truck and the Mailman, ‘sign here please’ the usual greeting. I want to live to be disgusted by the news reports and the News Readers bad grammar.  I like being alive to have hope, to pray to an unseen God and hope that there is one who listens. 

What a disaster if there isn’t a God!! Then I must live forever because if this is all there is, who wants to die and be done with?

Finally, I want to live so that I can have faith and perhaps, life abundantly.


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My final blog of 2016. I thank all the visitors to afteraristotle.com for your encouragement.  i Look forward to a new year; with love and admiration.


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