Say we started each day on a blank space– no yesterday’s or tomorrow’s, befores or afters, or then or laters… just now. The moment. The blink. The beat. The itch. The jolt. The breath. The feel. Yes, that feeling that perhaps every second exists in itself, and maybe it really does… because the next second is not guaranteed, and the last second is gone as though it never happened. So it’s here and now, and what you do with it. It could end now, and it could continue. But we don’t know how much more feels, or breaths, or heartbeats there’ll be; or how how many more blinks, or moments it’ll take. When’s the last hello or the last goodbye, the next later that may never arrive… I don’t know, maybe you don’t too. But we know of a now. Wouldn’t we rather make it count?
© The Short Black Girl, 2015.