Interesting night at work…I had this table of super obnoxious middle-aged men from Canada. Their accents were so atrocious I thought they were kidding. They quite openly stared at my chest, and seemed to be staging a pissing contest over flirting with me.  It was stupid – almost all had wedding rings on, they were my Dad’s age, inventing excuses to get me to talk to them. I don’t think I’m ugly, but I’m not a supermodel. There was no reason for all the attention. And it wasn’t flattering attention – it was keeping me running to get another round of drinks, asking if I would eat with them, where I was going later, and insulting comments, as if we we’re in second grade and you “told” someone you liked them by chasing them around the playground and kicking tanbark into their hair. I kept looking around bewildered at the group, like, “is this funny for you guys? do you think girls like this? because I’m actually making fun of you to everyone else I work with right now. and i feel sorry for your wife and children.”

Working in a restaurant/bar turns you into the biggest cynic. There are many things I like – I have people at work I truly love, I like eating biscuits all day, every once in a while you get a really cool table of people. But mostly you just see an ugly, demanding, it-feels-like-you-came-here-to-destroy-my-soul side of people. I won’t miss it.

I went on a walk today. I walk a lot. About four or five miles everyday, just in my hood. There is a lake and a pond and a ton of nature around where I live, and it’s easy to slip on my headphones and wander for a few miles. There was a dead cat on my walk today. His mouth was open in surprise, like “did I really just get hit by a car?” Ironically, he’s next to the dead deer that is down to a few bits of fur and his bones still sticking up in the shape of a rib cage, after the last few months of decaying. It must be a dangerous corner, right where they are dead, side by side.

I think about death a lot. Do you? Several times a day, I imagine dying right at that moment, and if it would hurt, and what everyone would have to do. How it would feel to be dead. What would happen to all my stuff? All my social media friends? My personal effects? How would they tell people?

The fact that death comes at any moment, without warning, makes me both happy and miserable. Every time anything about me hurts in a way that I can’t define, I assume I’m about to die. My right leg has been trembling and tingly for five days now. I googled what that might mean, and am now pretty sure I have measles and scurvy with a side of cancer. I’m happy to know I can’t know when I will die. I’m petrified that it will happen before I get to do the following things: get married, be a mom, publish a book, go to Argentina.

The crazy/strange thing about being a Christian is that, with the promised hope of Heaven, I am supposed to assume that what is waiting for me after I die is like so many million times better than anything on Earth that time on Earth almost doesn’t matter. Die as we may, Heaven is better.

This is where Faith really comes in. Because I start thinking…really? REALLY?! Heaven is better than a perfectly hot day at the beach, with a crispy bag of chips, and ice cold beer, and I don’t get a sunburn, and my sandcastle stands proud for days, and my imaginary husband makes out with me on our blanket as dolphins frolic along the break in the shadow of our love-making? Heaven is better than a drive-in movie, In-Out burgers, driving to the top of the hill and sleeping under the stars after a good round of truth-or-dare with my best friends? Better than a puppy in my arms, or a newborn sleeping on my chest, or a bubble bath with wine and candles, or being surrounded by those I love opening Christmas presents, drinking mimosas in matching pajamas?

Like, I don’t get it.

Which is maddening and comforting at the same time.

There is a quote that says you have three deaths: Once when your heart stops, once when your burried or cremated, and once the last time someone says your name.

We are silly. We are small. We are a speck of dust on the timeline that is Earth. But it is hard for us to know that is true.

Maybe we get previews of Heaven. I rather enjoy my life, even in the hell I fancied myself in for a while every now and then, especially last year – grasping at peace and understanding from under the rocks of depression. I would endure this contemporary struggle until the end, even if it was a big, long end, to get all of us to a better end.

Aye. The night is long, and sleep beckons, and I have a strawberry fro-yo calling my name.

:) adieu. and if it really is, adios. and if it really, really is… prance out, my lov-ed. Prance out.