The Last

The last hug with your loved one before they leave. The last meal.  The last goodbye. The last breath.

Why is “the last” the most important, the most meaningful, the one that lingers?

The more scarce something is, the more precious it becomes. The last moment is the most scarce moment. The last moment is the most precious moment.

Does it have to be that way?

Do we have to feel lukewarm about moments in life until we know they are at their end point – then have a sudden change at “the last”?

Every moment with a loved one is the most important. Every meal is the last. Every hug is the most meaningful. Every breath is one to savour.

Savour each moment. Give a silly smile. This life is scarce.

This life is our last. 

Open Door

I said no. I said I was going in the opposite direction. I lied.

I could have helped. I could have made a difference in a life today. I actively chose not to.

She wanted a lift to place nearby, and I was too self-absorbed to help, thinking my schedule (term used loosely) was more important.

On a day in which our minds are full of thoughts about terrorism in Paris; thoughts about how people could be (and can be) so evil; it is easier to lament the bad than celebrate the good.

I let the bad infect me. I was wrong.

I should have focussed on Porte Ouverte. Open Door. The hashtag being used on social media to provide locations Parisians can access for shelter in these desperate times.

I should have been inspired by the selfless acts, human tendency to unite in times of adversity, and all that Porte Ouverte represents.

In times of trouble, average people can be called to stand up and make a difference. No, in all times, on a lovely Saturday morning in Johannesburg, average people can be called to stand up and make a difference.

This morning, I failed.

I don't know enough about terrorism to address the psychology of a terrorist, but I do know that humans can be good, and Porte Ouverte shows that.

I will take my next Porte Ouverte opportunity. So can you.