The busy lives we live are approached day by day, and little do we acknowledge the worst case scenerio we may uncontrollably encounter at any given time. We all get into our cars, and we drive whatever road we have to take to get to where we are going–to essentially "check-off" another item on our daily agendas. We hear all of the time about the unpleasant and most certainly tragic stories of each innocent life taken, and we ache at the thought of it happening to us. We shouldn't live our life every day agonizing about death; but we can certainly handle the idea of our flourishing existence, right?
Slowly the day comes to an end, and I wonder what my purpose is. I think: Why am I still here? Most days I reflect on and salute to every task checked off, or completed, and all the glowing and rememberable highlights of the day. I review exactly what wasn't accomplished, and assume I will pick up where I left off…tomorrow. I think about how fast the day goes, how short life seems to be; yet how long the road ahead actually is. I often wonder…Why am I still here?
I commute long distances every single day so theoretically speaking, aren't my chances of death just a tad bit higher? They say when we enter our vehicles we assume the risk. We assume it. We know it's possible, but we chance it anyway.
And here I am. Wondering what life has in store for me. What type of road will I have to take to get to where I want to be? I guess I'll find out. In the meantime, I'm savoring every breath. I am pushing through each and every day–riding out the hardships and rising above my failures. I thank the Gods for my precious life. Each time I pull into my driveway, I say to myself: "here's to another day" and I silently communicate my thanks to whoever is listening.
I must have a purpose, and although I have yet to figure it out, it surely awaits. As long as I'm pulling into my driveway, my purpose awaits.