One Day
If we were vampires and death was a joke
We’d go out on the sidewalk and smoke
And laugh at all the lovers and their plans
I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand
Maybe time running out is a gift
I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift
And give you every second I can find
And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind
It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever
Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone
Maybe we’ll get forty years together
But one day I’ll be gone
Or one day you’ll be gone
– Jason Isbell, If We Were Vampires
A song like this makes you question yourself. Points a finger into your chest and lets you know that you’re too cavalier with moments. Too willing to take it all for granted and dance with the days as if they’ll always be here. Moments stack up like old photos in a shoebox and it’s easy to believe that there will be another. Because there always has been for as long as we can remember.
We’re fascinated with immortality because we can’t have it. For ourselves, or for those we care about the most in this brief dance. But we cheat the days looking out to the end. The moments are here, staring at us and waiting for us to put the phone down and look us in the eye. Here we are, in this moment so briefly.
Maybe time running out is a gift. If we might see it running. If we might use it wisely. Not one day, but now.
“I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.” John Keets (a poem invoked to woo my dear Kelly)