I’ve been writing so much, I think I might actually revert to some math.
I’ve been alive for twenty years and a month. I’ve lived a quarter of my life, a fifth if I’m being optimistic. Twenty years is a substantial amount of time. I’ve fallen off of a bike, crashed into failure, tumbled into growing older in the 7, 330 days that I’ve lived. For someone that survives by using words, right now I’m enjoying looking at life through numbers.
By five, I’d seen 2000 days. I don’t remember much about them or the young girl who referred to her self in third person—because apparently that’s how you are taken seriously. Her hair was nearly blonde, her skin crisped and kissed by the sun. I had raccoon circles around my eyes because of my constant need to wear sunglasses. Maybe at five, I already knew to prepare myself, that sometimes the world is better looking when you don’t see it directly, when you aren’t aware of the things behind the lens, instead only choosing to see the beauty on the outside. I think I may need those glasses back.
By 5000 days, I was thirteen. Life wasn’t as easy because now I knew how to count the summer days, I knew that everything at some point ends and changes. But life was still good and simple. I can’t tell you that I knew who I was but I did know what I liked and what I wanted to do with my life. I guess not everybody is that way at thirteen, but I was sure. Even at thirteen I knew what I couldn’t live without.
It seems appropriate that I started with my first 2000 days; I should finish with my last. They’re the days I’m closest to, the ones I remember the most. They’ve been the roughest but some of the best. I’ve cried the hardest but smiled the most.
If we’re doing the math, and apparently we are, I’d assume that in those numbered days a person is expected to have half of those days good. 3500. I really wish the ratio would be more but I have to account for life and the times when light is harder to find. I’d hope then that half of those days, 1700, were the kind of days that were so good you almost forget them, instead their happiness just bleeding into your life, filling up your being.
I figure in 7000 days, one person should have at least 20 exceptional days. Maybe I’m skimping or possibly I’m being generous, but these are my ratios so I’m just going to go with that for now.
I’m calling on one of my twenty. I had one of those days on Tuesday. I, again, got to experience something I never planned. Apparently, at 5000 days I didn’t know how to dream big enough.
On Tuesday, I got to speak to a group of 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th graders from St. Brendan’s school, in LA. They were just awesome. Enthusiastic and eager, they listened to me, and I felt what it was like to have everyone’s attention, to realize the weight of my words. It was the first time I got to witness with my own eyes the affect of Above. I can’t tell you what if felt like to watch their faces and to see their energy. There’s something about it that makes you feel as light as a feather, but so warm and full you think even gravity couldn’t move you.
I’ve always wanted to do good for the world but Tuesday was the first time I saw that it was possible. In a world where there are so many poisonous things, I want to be a relief; I want to enforce the good. I guess it hadn’t dawned on me until now, or maybe I was just cynical and didn’t actually believe it was possible, but then again, to be honest, I’m still cynical. But now I’m hopeful, too.
So I’m crossing off one of my days, ticking off another finger, all in the hope of the next 2000, the coming 7000, and the 20 that I’ll be here dreaming about.
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