Last Days

I could die tomorrow, and that would be a shame. It’s a shame because I’m struggling to be happy today. I’d love my last day to be beautiful. If I knew this was my last day, right now I would head outside. I would walk along Germantown Avenue and grab a nice mocha and read a book. I’d walk next door and buy a pretty rose. I’d walk with that rose all the way down through Mt. Airy and back. I’d pick up a cupcake at Bradenbecks.

I’d tell my parents and grandmother to come down and I’d take them out for dinner. Keith would be invited. I’d drink a glass of red wine over some ribs and I’d stare out the restaurant window with a glimmer in my eye. I’d head down to South Street and walk alone with Keith for awhile. I’d walk to the spot where dad, mom and I wrote on the concrete together. Dad said “one day when we’re long gone, you can come back here and look at this.” I smiled, but I also knew it was only written in Sharpie and it wouldn’t last forever.

I’d go to 2nd street and get a little tipsy off of beer and cider. I’d get some ice cream in Kensington. I’d drive back to Manayunk with Keith and have a margarita or two, because I’d be dead tomorrow and so who cares about hangovers? I’d walk up and down Main Street with him, like always. I’d walk along the canal and through Roxborough with him, like always. I’d stop him to write my last three poems. Three, because I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to say everything I’d need to say on my last day in just one.

When the stars would start twinkling we’d go to Pretzel Park, lay out a blanket like we’ve done in the past and smile at the stars. Then I’d go home and thank the universe for giving me so many beautiful people in my life. My mom, my dad, my grandmother, Keith. My sisters, my brother, my nieces and nephews. My crazy uncle Glenny. The beautiful people that I met by chance under the El on Front Street one fall day a long, long time ago. The beautiful friends that the led me to, like Ms. Alyssa who is planning her beautiful wedding right now and Mr. Bruno who I made lattes with in a past life. I’d send Annie a card on my last day, for sure, because I like sending Annie a card in the mail now and then.

And then I’d close my eyes for the last time, and I’d be happy.

But I’m struggling to feel the happy these days. Why is that? WHY is that?