Imaginary Conversation

Linda Pastan

You tell me to live each day
as if it were my last. This is in the kitchen
where before coffee I complain
of the day ahead—that obstacle race
of minutes and hours,
grocery stores and doctors.

But why the last? I ask. Why not
live each day as if it were the first—
all raw astonishment, Eve rubbing
her eyes awake that first morning,
the sun coming up
like an ingénue in the east?

You grind the coffee
with the small roar of a mind
trying to clear itself. I set
the table, glance out the window
where dew has baptized every
living surface.

Maybe we have been going about this all wrong. I mean, I’m guilty of trying to adhere to the old adage of “Live life to the fullest and live each day as if it were your last.” But, why not choose to live each day as if it were your first day on this Earth? To be enchanted by the Sun lighting up the sky or the wonder of waking up to a winter’s first snow blanketing the ground and everything surrounding it. Maybe we should embrace each day and all of life’s miracles with raw astonishment. . .to approach each day as if you’ve never experienced it before.